fESTERM 


> 


■ 


^ 


CHaifesAldenSeltze 


I 


THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 


•      •  ••  • 


AhttMAmuk^S^..' 


4 IF  YOU  WANT  THE  PARSON  TO  DIE,  DON'T  LOOK  AT  ME  WHEN  HE  STEPS  IN." 

Frontispiece. 
The  Trail  to  Yesterday. 


The  Trail  To 
Yesterday 

By  Charles  Alden  Seltzer 


Author  of 

"The  Two -Gun  Man/' 

"The  Coming  of  the  Law," 

Etc. 


With  Three  Illustrations 


A.    t.   BURT   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


•    •  •  .  • 


I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGJE 

I.  A  Woman  on  the  Trail  ....  n 

II.  The  Dim  Trail 40 

III.  Converging    Trails 53 

IV.  This   Picture  and  That        .     ...     .  72 
V.  Dakota  Evens  a  Score    .      .     ...     ..  88 

VI.  Kindred   Spirits      .      .      .      .,     .      .  Ill 

VII.  Bogged   Down         ......  121 

VIII.  Sheila  Fans  a  Flame       .     ,.,     .      .  146 

IX.  Strictly   Business 163 

X.  Duncan  Adds  Two  and  Two      .      .  196 

XI.  A  Parting  and  a  Visit     ....  215 

XII.  A  Meeting  on  the  River  Trail       .  231 

XIII.  The  Shot  in  the  Back   ....  254 

XIV.  Langford  Lays  Off  the  Mask  .      .  275 
XV.  The  Parting  on  the  River  Trail  .  303 

XVI.  Sheriff  Allen  Takes  a  Hand   .      .  310 

XVII.  Doubler    Talks 323 

XVIII.  For   Dakota 336 

XIX.  Some  Memories 344 

XX.  Into  the  Unknown $59 


M40254 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  If  you  want  the  Parson  to 
die,  don't  look  at  me  when 
he  steps  in."      .  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"Won't  you  please  get  us  out  of 
this?"  * 134 

Duncan  grasped  for  his  pistol,  but 
the  hand  holding  it  was  stamped 
violently  into  the  earth,     .      .     ..-.     161 


THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 


THE  TRAIL  TO 
YESTERDAY 

CHAPTER   I    - 

A  WOMAN  ON  THE-^R^I^    '  r        ^ 

MANY  disquieting  thoughts  oppressed 
Miss  Sheila  Langford  as  she  halted 
her  pony  on  the  crest  of  a  slight  rise 
and  swept  the  desolate  and  slumberous 
world  with  an  anxious  glance.  Quite  the 
most  appalling  of  these  thoughts  developed 
from  a  realization  of  the  fact  that  she  had 
lost  the  trail.  The  whole  categorical  array 
of  inconveniences  incidental  to  traveling  in 
a  new,  unsettled  country  paled  into  insig- 
nificance when  she  considered  this  horrify- 
ing and  entirely  unromantic  fact.  She  was 
lost ;  she  had  strayed  from  the  trail,  she  was 
alone  and  night  was  coming. 

She  would  not  have  cared  so  much  about 
the  darkness,  for  she  had  never  been  a  cow- 
ard, and  had  conditions  been  normal  she 
would  have   asked  nothing  better   than  a 

11 


12    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

rapid  gallop  over  the  dim  plains.  But  as 
she  drew  her  pony  up  on  the  crest  of  the 
rise  a  rumble  of  thunder  reached  her  ears. 
Of  course  it  would  rain,  now  that  she  had 
lost  the  trail,  she  decided,  yielding  to  a  sud- 
den, bitter  anger.  It  usually  did  rain  when 
one  was  abroad  without  prospect  of  shelter; 
it  always  rained  when  one  was  lost. 

Well,  there  was  no  help  for  it,  of  course, 
and  she  had  only  herself  to  blame  for  the 
blunder.  For  the  other — not  unusual — irri- 
tating details  that  had  combined  to  place  her 
in  this  awkward  position  she  could  blame, 
first  Duncan,  the  manager  of  the  Double 
R — who  should  have  sent  someone  to  meet 
her  at  the  station;  the  station  agent — who 
had  allowed  her  to  set  forth  in  search  of  the 
Double  R  without  a  guide, — though  even 
now,  considering  this  phase  of  the  situation, 
she  remembered  that  the  agent  had  told  her 
there  was  no  one  to  send — and  certainly  the 
desolate  appearance  of  Lazette  had  borne 
out  this  statement ;  and  last,  she  could  blame 
the  country  itself  for  being  an  unfeatured 
wilderness. 

Something  might  be  said  in  extenuation 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    13 

of  the  station  agent's  and  the  Double  R 
manager's  sins  of  omission,  but  without 
doubt  the  country  was  what  she  had  termed 
it — an  unfeatured  wilderness.  Her  first 
sensation  upon  getting  a  view  of  the  coun- 
try had  been  one  of  deep  disappointment. 
There  was  plenty  of  it,  she  had  decided, — 
enough  to  make  one  shrink  from  its  very 
bigness;  yet  because  it  was  different  from 
the  land  she  had  been  accustomed  to  she  felt 
that  somehow  it  was  inferior.  Her  father 
had  assured  her  of  its  beauty,  and  she  had 
come  prepared  to  fall  in  love  with  it,  but 
within  the  last  half  hour — when  she  had  be- 
gun to  realize  that  she  had  lost  the  trail — 
she  had  grown  to  hate  it. 

She  hated  the  desolation,  the  space,  the  si- 
lence, the  arid  stretches ;  she  had  made  grim- 
aces at  the  "  cactuses  "  with  their  forbidding 
pricklers — though  she  could  not  help  ad- 
miring them,  they  seemed  to  be  the  only 
growing  thing  in  the  country  capable  of  de- 
fying the  heat  and  the  sun.  Most  of  all  she 
hated  the  alkali  dust.  All  afternoon  she  had 
kept  brushing  it  off  her  clothing  and  clear- 
ing it  out  of  her  throat,  and  only  within  the 


14     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

last  half  hour  she  had  begun  to  realize  that 
her  efforts  had  been  without  result — it  lay 
thick  all  over  her;  her  throat  was  dry  and 
parched  with  it,  and  her  eyes  burned. 

She  sat  erect,  flushed  and  indignant,  to 
look  around  at  the  country.  A  premonitory 
calm  had  succeeded  the  warning  rumble. 
Ominous  black  clouds  were  scurrying,  wind- 
whipped,  spreading  fan-like  through  the 
sky,  blotting  out  the  colors  of  the  sunset, 
darkening  the  plains,  creating  weird  shad- 
ows. Objects  that  Sheila  had  been  able  to 
see  quite  distinctly  when  she  had  reined  in 
her  pony  were  no  longer  visible.  She  stirred 
uneasily. 

"  We'll  go  somewhere,"  she  said  aloud  to 
the  pony,  as  she  urged  the  animal  down  the 
slope.  "  If  it  rains  we'll  get  just  as  wet 
here  as  we  would  anywhere  else."  She  was 
surprised  at  the  queer  quiver  in  her  voice. 
She  was  going  to  be  brave,  of  course,  but 
somehow  there  seemed  to  be  little  consola- 
tion in  the  logic  of  her  remark. 

The  pony  shambled  forward,  carefully 
picking  its  way,  and  Sheila  mentally  thanked 
the  station  agent  for  providing  her  with  so 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    15 

reliable  a  beast.  There  was  one  consoling 
fact  at  any  rate,  and  she  retracted  many 
hard  things  she  had  said  in  the  early  part  of 
her  ride  about  the  agent. 

Shuffling  down  the  slope  the  pony  struck 
a  level.  After  traveling  over  this  for  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  Sheila  became  aware  of  an 
odd  silence;  looking  upward  she  saw  that 
the  clouds  were  no  longer  in  motion;  that 
they  were  hovering,  low  and  black,  directly 
overhead.  A  flash  of  lightning  suddenly 
illuminated  the  sky,  showing  Sheila  a  great 
waste  of  world  that  stretched  to  four  hori- 
zons. It  revealed,  in  the  distance,  the  naked 
peaks  of  some  hills;  a  few  frowning  buttes 
that  seemed  to  fringe  a  river ;  some  gullies  in 
which  lurked  forbidding  shadows;  clumps 
of  desert  growth — the  cactus — now  seeming 
grotesque  and  mocking;  the  snaky  octilla; 
the  filmy,  rustling  mesquite;  the  dust-laden 
sage-brush ;  the  soap  weed ;  the  sentinel  lance 
of  the  yucca.  Then  the  light  was  gone  and 
darkness  came  again. 

Sheila  shuddered  and  vainly  tried  to  force 
down  a  queer  lump  that  had  risen  in  her 
throat  over  the  desolation  of  it  all.    It  way 


16    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

not  anything  like  her  father  had  pictured  it! 
Men  had  the  silly  habit  of  exaggerating  in 
these  things,  she  decided — they  were  rough 
themselves  and  they  made  the  mistake  of 
thinking  that  great,  grim  things  were  at- 
tractive. What  beauty  was  there,  for  in- 
stance, in  a  country  where  there  was  noth- 
ing but  space  and  silence  and  grotesque 
weeds — and  rain?  Before  she  could  answer 
this  question  a  sudden  breeze  swept  over 
her;  a  few  large  drops  of  rain  dashed  into 
her  face,  and  her  thoughts  returned  to  her- 
self. 

The  pony  broke  into  a  sharp  lope  and  she 
allowed  it  to  hold  the  pace,  wisely  conclud- 
ing that  the  animal  was  probably  more  fa- 
miliar with  the  country  than  she.  She  found 
her  self  wondering  why  she  had  not  thought 
of  that  before — when,  for  example,  a  few 
miles  back  she  had  deliberately  guided  it 
out  of  a  beaten  trail  toward  a  section  of 
country  where,  she  had  imagined,  the  trav- 
eling would  be  better.  No  doubt  she  had 
strayed  from  the  trail  just  there. 

The  drops  of  rain  grew  more  frequent; 
they  splashed  into  her  face;  she  could  feel 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    17 

them  striking  her  arms  and  shoulders.  The 
pony's  neck  and  mane  became  moist  under 
her  hand,  the  darkness  increased  for  a  time 
and  the  continuing  rumble  in  the  heavens 
presaged  a  steady  downpour. 

The  pony  moved  faster  now;  it  needed  no 
urging,  and  Sheila  held  her  breath  for  fear 
that  it  might  fall,  straining  her  eyes  to  watch 
its  limbs  as  they  moved  with  the  sure  regu- 
larity of  an  automaton.  After  a  time  they 
reached  the  end  of  the  level;  Sheila  could 
tell  that  the  pony  was  negotiating  another 
rise,  for  it  slackened  speed  appreciably  and 
she  felt  herself  settling  back  against  the 
cantle  of  the  saddle.  A  little  later  she  real- 
ized that  they  were  going  down  the  opposite 
side  of  the  rise,  and  a  moment  later  they 
were  again  on  a  level.  A  deeper  blackness 
than  they  had  yet  encountered  rose  on  their 
right,  and  Sheila  correctly  decided  it  to  be 
caused  by  a  stretch  of  wood  that  she  had  ob- 
served from  the  crest  of  the  rise  where  she 
had  halted  her  pony  for  a  view  of  the  coun- 
try. After  an  interval,  during  which  she  de- 
bated the  wisdom  of  directing  her  pony  into 
jjtfae  wood  for  protection  from  the  rain  which 


18    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

was  now  coming  against  her  face  in  vicious 
slants,  her  pony  nickered  shrilly! 

A  thrill  of  fear  assailed  Sheila.  She  knew 
horses  and  was  certain  that  some  living  thing 
was  on  the  trail  in  front  of  her.  Halting 
the  pony,  she  held  tightly  to  the  reins 
through  a  short,  tense  silence.  Then  pres- 
ently, from  a  point  just  ahead  on  the  trail, 
came  an  answering  nicker  in  the  horse  lan- 
guage. Sheila's  pony  cavorted  nervously 
and  broke  into  a  lope,  sharper  this  time  in 
spite  of  the  tight  rein  she  kept  on  it.  Her 
fear  grew,  though  mingling  with  it  was  a 
devout  hope.  If  only  the  animal  which  had 
answered  her  own  pony  belonged  to  the 
Double  R!  She  would  take  back  many  of 
the  unkind  and  uncharitable  things  she  had 
said  about  the  country  since  she  had  lost 
the  trail. 

The  pony's  gait  had  quickened  into  a  gal- 
lop— which  she  could  not  check.  In  the  past 
few  minutes  the  darkness  had  lifted  a  little ; 
she  saw  that  the  pony  was  making  a  gradual 
turn,  following  a  bend  in  the  river.  Then 
came  a  flash  of  lightning  and  she  saw,  a 
short  distance  ahead,  a  pony  and  rider,  sta- 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    19 

tionary,  watching.  With  an  effort  she  suc- 
ceeded in  reining  in  her  own  animal,  and 
while  she  sat  in  the  saddle,  trembling  and 
anxious,  there  came  another  flash  of  light- 
ning and  she  saw  the  rider's  face. 

The  rider  was  a  cowboy.  She  had  dis- 
tinctly seen  the  leathern  chaps  on  his  legs; 
the  broad  hat,  the  scarf  at  his  throat.  Doubt 
and  fear  assailed  her.  What  if  the  man  did 
not  belong  to  the  Double  R?  What  if  he 
were  a  road  agent — an  outlaw?  Immedi- 
ately she  heard  an  exclamation  from  him  in 
which  she  detected  much  surprise  and  not  a 
little  amusement. 

"  Shucks ! "  he  said.  f.  It's  a  woman ! " 
There  came  a  slow  movement.  In  the  lift- 
ing darkness  Sheila  saw  the  man  return  a 
pistol  to  the  holster  that  swung  at  his  right 
hip.  He  carelessly  threw  one  leg  over  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle  and  looked  at  her.  She 
sat  very  rigid,  debating  a  sudden  impulse  to 
urge  her  pony  past  him  and  escape  the  dan- 
ger that  seemed  to  threaten.  While  she 
watched  he  shoved  the  broad  brimmed  hat 
back  from  his  forehead.  He  was  not  over 
five  feet  distant  from  her;  she  could  feel  her 


20    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

pony  nuzzling  his  with  an  inquisitive  muzzle, 
and  she  could  dimly  see  the  rider's  face.  It 
belonged  to  a  man  of  probably  twenty-eight 
or  thirty;  it  had  regular  features,  keen,  level 
eyes  and  a  firm  mouth.  There  was  a  slight 
smile  on  his  face  and  somehow  the  fear  that 
had  oppressed  Sheila  began  to  take  flight. 
And  while  she  sat  awaiting  the  turn  of 
events  his  voice  again  startled  her: 

"  I  reckon  you've  stampeded  off  your 
range,  ma'am?" 

A  sigh  of  relief  escaped  Sheila.  The 
voice  was  very  gentle  and  friendly. 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  have  stampeded— 
whatever  that  means,"  she  returned,  reas- 
sured now  that  the  stranger  gave  promise  of 
being  none  of  the  dire  figures  of  her  imagi- 
nation ;  "  I  am  lost  merely.  You  see,  I  am 
looking  for  the  Double  R  ranch." 

"Oh,"  he  said  inexpressively;  "the 
Double  R." 

There  ensued  a  short  silence  and  she  could 
not  see  his  face  for  he  had  bowed  his  head 
a  little  and  the  broad  brimmed  hat  inter- 
vened. 

"  Do  you  know  where  the  Double  R  ranch 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    21 

is?"    There  was  a  slight  impatience  in  her 
voice. 

"Sure,"  came ^ his  voice.  "It's  up  the 
crick  a  ways." 

"How  far?" 
"  Twenty  miles." 

"Oh!"  This  information  was  disheart- 
ening. Twenty  miles!  And  the  rain  was 
coming  steadily  down ;  she  could  feel  it  soak- 
ing through  her  clothing.  A  bitter,  unrea- 
soning anger  against  nature,  against  the  cir- 
cumstances which  had  conspired  to  place  her 
in  this  position ;  against  the  man  for  his  ap- 
parent lack  of  interest  in  her  welfare,  moved 
her,  though  she  might  have  left  the  man  out 
of  it,  for  certainly  he  could  not  be  held  re- 
sponsible. Yet  his  nonchalance,  his  serenity 
— something  about  him — irritated  her. 
Didn't  he  know  she  was  getting  wet  ?  Why 
didn't  he  offer  her  shelter?  It  did  not  occur 
to  her  that  perhaps  he  knew  of  no  shelter. 
But  while  her  indignation  over  his  inaction 
grew  she  saw  that  he  was  doing  something — 
fumbling  at  a  bundle  that  seemed  to  be 
strapped  to  the  cantle  of  his  saddle.  And 
then  he  leaned  forward — very  close  to  her — 


22     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

and  she  saw  that  he  was  offering  her  a  tar- 
paulin. 

"  Wrap  yourself  in  this,"  he  directed.  "  It 
ain't  pretty,  of  course,  but  it'll  keep  you 
from  getting  drenched.  Rain  ain't  no  re- 
specter of  persons." 

She  detected  a  compliment  in  this  but  ig- 
nored it  and  placed  the  tarpaulin  around 
her  shoulders.  Then  it  suddenly  occurred 
to  her  that  he  was  without  protection.  She 
hesitated. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  "  but  I  can't  take 
this.    You  haven't  anything  for  yourself." 

A  careless  laugh  reached  her.  "  That's 
all  right;  I  don't  need  anything." 

There  was  silence  again.    He  broke  it 
with  a  question. 

"  What  are  you  figuring  to  do  now?  " 

What  was  she  going  to  do?  The  prospect 
of  a  twenty-mile  ride  through  a  strange 
country  in  a  drenching  rain  was  far  from 
appealing  to  her.  Her  hesitation  was  elo- 
quent. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered,  no  way 
of  escape  from  the  dilemma  presenting 
itself. 


A    WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    23 

6  You  can  go  on,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  and 
get  lost,  or  hurt — or  killed.  It's  a  bad  trail. 
Or  " — he  continued,  hesitating  a  little  and 
appearing  to  speak  with  an  effort— there's 
my  shack.    You  can  have  that." 

Then  he  did  have  a  dwelling  place.  This 
voluntary  information  removed  another  of 
the  fearsome  doubts  that  had  beset  her.  She 
had  been  afraid  that  he  might  prove  to  be 
an  irresponsible  wanderer,  but  when  a  man 
kept  a  house  it  gave  to  his  character  a  cer- 
tain recommendation,  it  suggested  stability, 
more,  it  indicated  honesty. 

Of  course  she  would  have  to  accept  the 
shelter  of  his  "  shack."  There  was  no  help 
for  it,  for  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  enter- 
tain the  idea  of  riding  twenty  miles  over  an 
unknown  trail,  through  the  rain  and  dark- 
ness. Moreover,  she  was  not  afraid  of  the 
stranger  now,  for  in  spite  of  his  easy,  serene 
movements,  his  quiet  composure,  his  sup- 
pressed amusement,  Sheila  detected  a  note 
in  his  voice  which  told  her  that  he  was  deeply 
concerned  over  her  welfare — even  though 
he  seemed  to  be  enjoying  her.  In  any  event 
she  could  not  go  forward,  for  the  unknown 


24    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

terrified  her  and  she  felt  that  in  accepting 
the  proffered  shelter  of  his  "  shack  "  she  was 
choosing  the  lesser  of  two  dangers.  She  de- 
cided quickly. 

"  I  shall  accept — I  think.  Will  you  please 
hurry?  I  am  getting  wet  in  spite  of  this — 
this  covering." 

Wheeling  without  a  word  he  proceeded 
down  the  trail,  following  the  river.  The 
darkness  had  abated  somewhat,  the  low- 
hanging  clouds  had  taken  on  a  grayish- 
white  hue,  and  the  rain  was  coming  down  in 
torrents.  Sheila  pulled  the  tarpaulin  tighter 
about  her  shoulders  and  clung  desperately 
to  the  saddle,  listening  to  the  whining  of  the 
wind  through  the  trees  that  flanked  her, 
keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  the  tall,  swaying, 
indistinct  figure  of  her  guide. 

After  riding  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they 
reached  a  little  clearing  near  the  river  and 
Sheila  saw  her  guide  halt  his  pony  and  dis- 
mount. A  squat,  black  shape  loomed  out  of 
the  darkness  near  her  and,  riding  closer,  she 
saw  a  small  cabin,  of  the  lean-to  type,  con- 
structed of  adobe  bricks.  A  dog  barked  in 
front   of  her   and  she  heard  the   stranger 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    25 

speak  sharply  to  it.  He  silently  approached 
and  helped  her  down  from  the  saddle.  Then 
he  led  both  horses  away  into  the  darkness  on 
the  other  side  of  the  cabin.  During  his  ab- 
sence she  found  time  to  glance  about  her. 
It  was  a  desolate  place.  Did  he  live  here 
alone? 

The  silence  brought  no  answer  to  this 
question,  and  while  she  continued  to  search 
out  objects  in  the  darkness  she  saw  the 
stranger  reappear  around  the  corner  of  the 
cabin  and  approach  the  door.  He  fumbled 
at  it  for  a  moment  and  threw  it  open.  He 
disappeared  within  and  an  instant  later 
Sheila  heard  the  scratch  of  a  match  and  saw 
a  feeble  glimmer  of  light  shoot  out  through 
the  doorway.    Then  the  stranger's  voice: 

"  Come  in." 

He  had  lighted  a  candle  that  stood  on  a 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room,  and  in  its 
glaring  flicker  as  she  stepped  inside  Sheila 
caught  her  first  good  view  of  the  stranger's 
face.  She  felt  reassured  instantly,  for  it 
was  a  good  face,  with  lines  denoting  strength 
of  character.  The  drooping  mustache  did 
not  quite  conceal  his  lips,  which  were  straight 


26    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

and  firm.  Sheila  was  a  little  disturbed  over 
the  hard  expression  in  them,  however, 
though  she  had  heard  that  the  men  of  the 
West  lived  rather  hazardous  lives  and  she 
supposed  that  in  time  their  faces  showed  it. 
It  was  his  eyes,  though,  that  gave  her  a  fleet- 
ing glimpse  of  his  character.  They  were 
blue — a  steely,  fathomless  blue;  baffling, 
mocking;  swimming — as  she  looked  into 
them  now — with  an  expression  that  she 
could  not  attempt  to  analyze.  One  thing 
she  saw  in  them  only, — recklessness— and 
she  drew  a  slow,  deep  breath. 

They  were  standing  very  close  together. 
He  caught  the  deep-drawn  breath  and 
looked  quickly  at  her,  his  eyes  alight  and 
narrowed  with  an  expression  which  was  a 
curious  mingling  of  quizzical  humor  and 
grim  enjoyment.  Her  own  eyes  did  not 
waver,  though  his  were  boring  into  hers 
steadily,  as  though  he  were  trying  to  read 
her  thoughts. 

"  Afraid?  "  he  questioned,  with  a  sugges- 
tion of  sarcasm  in  the  curl  of  his  lips. 

Sheila  stiffened,  her  eyes  flashing  defiance. 
She  studied  him  steadily,  her  spirit  battling 


A    WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    27 

his  over  the  few  feet  that  separated  them. 
Then  she  spoke  deliberately,  evenly:  "  I 
am  not  afraid  of  you!  " 

"  That's  right/'  A  gratified  smile  broke 
on  the  straight,  hard  lips.  A  new  expres- 
sion came  into  his  eyes — admiration. 
■  You've  got  nerve,  ma'am.  I'm  some 
pleased  that  you've  got  that  much  trust  in 
me.  You  don't  need  to  be  scared.  You're 
as  safe  here  as  you'd  be  out  there."  He 
nodded  toward  the  open  door.  "  Safer,"  he 
added  with  a  grave  smile ;  "  you  might  get 
hurt  out  there." 

He  turned  abruptly  and  went  to  the  door, 
where  he  stood  for  a  long  time  looking  out 
into  the  darkness.  She  watched  him  for  a 
moment  and  then  removed  the  tarpaulin  and 
hung  it  from  a  nail  in  the  wall  of  the  cabin. 
Standing  near  the  table  she  glanced  about 
her.  There  was  only  one  room  in  the  cabin, 
but  it  was  large — about  twenty  by  twenty, 
she  estimated.  Beside  an  open  fireplace  in  a 
corner  were  several  pots  and  pans — his  cook- 
ing utensils.  On  a  shelf  were  some  dishes.  A 
guitar  swung  from  a  gaudy  string  suspended 
from  the  wall.    A  tin  of  tobacco  and  a  pipe 


28    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

reposed  on  another  shelf  beside  a  box  of 
matches.  A  bunk  filled  a  corner  and  she 
went  over  to  it,  fearing.  But  it  was  clean 
and  the  bed  clothing  fresh  and  she  smiled  a 
little  as  she  continued  her  examination. 

The  latter  finished  she  went  to  a  small 
window  above  the  bunk,  looking  out  into  the 
night.  The  rain  came  against  the  glass  in 
stinging  slants,  and  watching  it  she  found 
herself  feeling  very  grateful  to  the  man  who 
stood  in  the  doorway.  Turning  abruptly, 
she  caught  him  watching  her,  an  appraising 
smile  on  his  face. 

"  You  ought  to  be  hungry  by  now,"  he 
said.  "  There's  a  fireplace  and  some  wood. 
Do  you  want  a  fire? " 

In  response  to  her  nod  he  kindled  a  fire, 
she  standing  beside  the  window  watching 
him,  noting  his  lithe,  easy  movements.  She 
could  not  mistake  the  strength  and  virility 
of  his  figure,  even  with  his  back  turned  to 
her,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  was  a 
certain  recklessness  in  his  actions — as  though 
his  every  movement  advertised  a  careless  re- 
gard for  consequences.  She  held  her  breath 
when  he  split  a  short  log  into  slender  splin- 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    29 

ters,  for  he  swung  the  short-handled  axe 
with  a  loose  grasp,  as  though  he  cared  very 
little  where  its  sharp  blade  landed.  But  she 
noted  that  he  struck  with  precision  despite 
his  apparent  carelessness,  every  blow  falling 
true.  His  manner  of  handling  the  axe  re- 
flected the  spirit  that  shone  in  his  eyes  when, 
after  kindling  the  fire,  he  stood  up  and 
looked  at  her, 

"  There's  grub  in  the  chuck  box,"  he 
stated  shortly.  "  There's  some  pans  and 
things.  It  ain't  what  you  might  call  elegant 
— not  what  you've  been  used  to,  I  expect. 
But  it's  a  heap  better  than  nothing,  and  I 
reckon  you'll  be  able  to  get  along."  He 
turned  and  walked  to  the  doorway,  standing 
in  it  for  an  instant,  facing  out.  "  Good- 
night," he  added.  The  tarpaulin  dangled 
from  his  arm. 

Evidently  he  intended  going  away.  A 
sudden  dread  of  being  alone  filled  her. 
"  Wait !  "  she  cried  involuntarily.  "  Where 
are  you  going? " 

He  halted  and  looked  back  at  her,  an  odd 
smile  on  his  face. 

"  To  my  bunk." 


30    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Oh!  "  She  could  not  analyze  the  smile 
on  his  face,  but  in  it  she  thought  she  detected 
something  subtle — untruthfulness  perhaps. 
She  glanced  at  the  tarpaulin  and  from  it  to 
his  eyes,  holding  her  gaze  steadily. 

"  You  are  going  to  sleep  in  the  open,"  she 
said. 

He  caught  the  accusation  in  her  eyes  and 
his  face  reddened. 

"  Well,"  he  admitted,  "  I've  done  it  be- 
fore." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  a  little  doubtfully. 
"  But  I  do  not  care  to  feel  that  I  am  driving 
you  out  into  the  storm.  You  might  catch 
cold  and  die.  And  I  should  not  want  to 
think  that  I  was  responsibe  for  your  death." 

"  A  little  wetting  wouldn't  hurt  me."  He 
looked  at  her  appraisingly,  a  glint  of  sym- 
pathy in  his  eyes.  Standing  there,  framed 
in  the  darkness,  the  flickering  light  from  the 
candle  on  his  strong,  grave  face,  he  made  a 
picture  that,  she  felt,  she  would  not  soon 
forget. 

"I  reckon  you  ain't  afraid  to  stay  here 
alone,  ma'am,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"    she    returned    frankly,  "  I    am 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    31 

afraid.    I  do  not  want  to  stay  here  alone." 

A  pistol  flashed  in  his  hand,  its  butt  to- 
ward her,  and  now  for  the  first  time  she  saw 
another  at  his  hip.  She  repressed  a  desire 
to  shudder  and  stared  with  dilated  eyes  at 
the  extended  weapon. 

"  Take  this  gun,"  he  offered.  "  It  ain't 
much  for  looks,  but  it'll  go  right  handy. 
You  can  bar  the  door,  too,  and  the  window." 

She  refused  to  take  the  weapon.  "  I 
wouldn't  know  how  to  use  it  if  I  had  occa- 
sion to.  I  prefer  to  have  you  remain  in  the 
cabin — for  protection." 

He  bowed.  "  I  thought  you'd —  "  he  be- 
gan, and  then  smiled  wryly.  "  It  certainly 
would  be  some  wet  outside,"  he  admitted., 
"  It  wouldn't  be  pleasant  sleeping.  I'll  lay 
over  here  by  the  door  when  I  get  my  blan- 
kets." 

He  went  outside  and  in  a  few  minutes  re- 
appeared with  his  blankets  and  saddle. 
Without  speaking  a  word  to  Sheila  he  laid 
the  saddle  down,  spread  the  blanket  over  it, 
and  stretched  himself  out  on  his  back. 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  light,"  he  said 
after  an  interval  of  silence,    during   which 


32     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk  and  re- 
garded his  profile  appraisingly.  You  can 
blow  it  out  if  you  like." 

"  I  prefer  to  have  it  burning." 

"  Suit  yourself." 

Sheila  got  up  and  placed  the  candle  in  a 
tin  dish  as  a  precaution  against  fire.  Then, 
when  its  position  satisfied  her  she  left  the 
table  and  went  to  the  bunk,  stretching  her- 
self out  on  it,  fully  dressed. 

For  a  long  time  she  lay,  listening  to  the 
soft  patter  of  the  rain  on  the  roof,  looking 
upward  at  the  drops  that  splashed  against 
the  window,  listening  to  the  fitful  whining 
of  the  wind  through  the  trees  near  the  cabin. 
Her  eyes  closed  presently,  sleep  was  fast 
claiming  her.  Then  sjie  heard  her  host's 
voice : 

"  You're  from  the  East,  I  reckon." 

"Yes," 

"Where?" 

"  New  York." 

"City?" 

"  Albany." 

There  was  a  silence.  Sheila  was  thor- 
oughly awake  again,  and  once  more  her  gaze 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    33 

went  to  the  window,  where  unceasing 
streams  trickled  down  the  glass.  Whatever 
fear  she  had  had  of  the  owner  of  the  cabin 
had  long  ago  been  dispelled  by  his  manner 
which,  though  puzzling,  hinted  of  the  gen- 
tleman. She  would  have  liked  him  better 
were  it  not  for  the  reckless  gleam  in  his  eyes ; 
that  gleam,  it  seemed  to  her,  indicated  a 
trait  of  character  which  was  not  wholly  ad* 
mirable. 

"  What  have  you  come  out  here  for?  * 
Sheila  smiled  at  the  rain-spattered  win- 
dow, a  flash  of  pleased  vanity  in  her  eyes. 
His  voice  had  been  low,  but  in  it  she  detected 
much  curiosity,  even  interest.  It  was  not 
surprising,  of  course,  that  he  should  feel  an 
interest  in  her;  other  men  had  been  inter- 
ested in  her  too,  only  they  had  not  been  men 
that  lived  in  romantic  wildernesses, — ob- 
serve that  she  did  not  make  use  of  the  term 
"  unfeatured,"  which  she  had  manufactured 
soon  after  realizing  that  she  was  lost — nor 
had  they  carried  big  revolvers,  like  this  man, 
who  seemed  also  to  know  very  well  how  to 
use  them. 

Those  other  men  who  had  been  interested 


34     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

in  her  had  had  a  way  of  looking  at  her ;  there 
had  always  been  a  significant  boldness  in 
their  eyes  which  belied  the  gentleness  of  de- 
meanor which,  she  had  always  been  sure, 
merely  masked  their  real  characters.  She 
had  never  been  able  to  look  squarely  at  any 
of  those  men,  the  men  of  her  circle  who  had 
danced  attendance  upon  her  at  the  social 
functions  that  had  formerly  filled  her  exis- 
tence— without  a  feeling  of  repugnance. 

They  had  worn  man-shapes,  of  course, 
but  somehow  they  had  seemed  to  lack  some- 
thing real  and  vital ;  seemed  to  have  pos- 
sessed nothing  of  that  forceful,  magnetic 
personality  which  was  needed  to  arouse  her 
sympathy  and  interest.  Not  that  the  man 
on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  door  interested 
her — she  could  not  admit  that!  But  she  had 
felt  a  sympathy  for  him  in  his  loneliness, 
and  she  had  looked  into  his  eyes — had  been 
able  to  look  steadily  into  them,  and  though 
she  had  seen  expressions  that  had  puzzled 
her,  she  had  at  least  seen  nothing  to  cause 
her  to  feel  any  uneasiness.  She  had  seen 
manliness  there,  and  indomitability,  and 
force,  and  it  had  seemed  to  her  to  be  suffi- 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    35 

cient.  His  would  be  an  ideal  face  were  it 
not  for  the  expression  that  lingered  about 
the  lips,  were  it  not  for  the  reckless  glint  in 
his  eyes — a  glint  that  revealed  an  untamed 
spirit. 

His  question  remained  unanswered.  He 
stirred  impatiently,  and  glancing  at  him 
Sheila  saw  that  he  had  raised  himself  so 
that  his  chin  rested  in  his  hand,  his  elbow 
supported  by  the  saddle. 

"  You  here  for  a  visit?  "  he  questioned. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not  know 
how  long  I  shall  stay.  My  father  has  bought 
the  Double  R ." 

For  a  long  time  it  seemed  that  he  would 
have  no  comment  to  make  on  this  and 
Sheila's  lips  took  on  a  decidedly  petulant 
expression.  Apparently  he  was  not  inter- 
ested in  her  after  all. 

"Then  Duncan  has  sold  out?"  There 
was  satisfaction  in  his  voice. 

"  You  are  keen,"  she  mocked. 

"  And  tickled,"  he  added. 

His  short  laugh  brought  a  sudden  interest 
into  her  eyes.  "  Then  you  don't  like  Dun- 
can," she  said. 


36    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"I  reckon  you're  some  keen  too,"  came 
the  mocking  response. 

Sheila  flushed,  turned  and  looked  defiantly 
at  him.  His  hand  still  supported  his  head 
and  there  was  an  unmistakable  interest  in 
his  eyes  as  he  caught  her  glance  at  him  and 
smiled. 

"  You  got  any  objections  to  telling  me 
your  name?  We  ain't  been  introduced,  you 
know? "  he  said. 

"  It  is  Sheila  Langford." 

She  had  turned  her  head  and  was  giving 
her  attention  to  the  window  above  her.  The 
fingers  of  the  hand  that  had  been  support- 
ing his  head  slowly  clenched,  he  raised  him- 
self slightly,  his  body  rigid,  his  chin  thrust- 
ing, his  face  pale,  his  eyes  burning  with  a 
sudden  fierce  fire.  Once  he  opened  his  lips 
to  speak,  but  instantly  closed  them  again, 
and  a  smile  wreathed  them — a  mirthless 
smile  that  had  in  it  a  certain  cold  caution 
and  cunning.  After  a  silence  that  lasted 
long  his  voice  came  again,  drawling,  well- 
controlled,  revealing  nothing  of  the  emotion 
which  had  previously  affected  him. 

"  What  is  your  father's  name?  " 


A  WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL    37 

"David  Dowd  Langford.  An  uncom- 
mon middle  name,  isn't  it? " 

"  Yes.  Uncommon,"  came  his  reply.  His 
face,  with  the  light  of  the  candle  gleaming 
full  upon  it,  bore  a  queer  pallor — the  white 
of  cold  ashes.  His  right  hand,  which  had 
been  resting  carelessly  on  the  blanket,  was 
now  gripping  it,  the  muscles  tense  and  knot- 
ted. Yet  after  another  long  silence  his  voice 
came  again — drawling,  well-controlled,  as 
before: 

"  What  is  he  coming  out  here  for  ?  " 

"  He  has  retired  from  business  and  is  com- 
ing out  here  for  his  health." 

"  What  business  was  he  in?  " 

"  Wholesale  hardware." 

He  was  silent  again  and  presently,  hear- 
ing him  stir,  Sheila  looked  covertly  at  him. 
He  had  turned,  his  back  was  toward  her, 
and  he  was  stretched  out  on  the  blanket  as 
though,  fully  satisfied  with  the  result  of  his 
questioning,  he  intended  going  to  sleep.  For 
several  minutes  Sheila  watched  him  with  a 
growing  curiosity.  It  was  like  a  man  to  ask 
all  and  give  nothing.  He  had  questioned 
her  to  his  complete  satisfaction  but  had  told 


38    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

nothing  of  himself.  She  was  determined  to 
discover  something  about  him. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  she  questioned, 

"  Dakota/5  he  said  shortly. 

"  Dakota?  "  she  repeated,  puzzled.  "  That 
isn't  a  name ;  it's  a  State — or  a  Territory." 

"  I'm  Dakota.  Ask  anybody."  There 
was  a  decided  drawl  in  his  voice. 

This  information  was  far  from  being  sat- 
isfactory, but  she  supposed  it  must  answer. 
Still,  she  persisted.  "  Where  are  you 
from?" 

"  Dakota." 

That  seemed  to  end  it.  It  had  been  a 
short  quest  and  an  unsatisfactory  one.  It 
was  perfectly  plain  to  her  that  he  was  some 
sort  of  a  rancher — at  the  least  a  cowboy.  It 
was  also  plain  that  he  had  been  a  cowboy  be- 
fore coming  to  this  section  of  the  country — 
probably  in  Dakota.  She  was  perplexed 
and  vexed  and  nibbled  impatiently  at  her 
lips. 

"  Dakota  isn't  your  real  name,"  she  de- 
clared sharply. 

"  Ain't  it?  "  There  came  the  drawl  again. 
It  irritated  her  this  time. 


A   WOMAN  ON  THE  TRAIL  39 


"  No! "  she  snapped, 

"  Well,  it's  as  good  as  any  other.  Good- 
night." 

Sheila  did  not  answer.  Five  minutes  later 
she  was  asleep. 


CHAPTER   II 


THE    DIM    TRAIL 


SHEILA  had  been  dreaming  of  a  world 
in  which  there  was  nothing  but  rain 
and  mud  and  clouds  and  reckless-eyed 
individuals  who  conversed  in  irritating 
drawls  when  a  sharp  crash  of  thunder 
awakened  her.  During  her  sleep  she  had 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall,  and  when  her 
eyes  opened  the  first  thing  that  her  gaze 
rested  on  was  the  small  window  above  her 
head.  She  regarded  it  for  some  time,  fol- 
lowing with  her  eyes  the  erratic  streams 
that  trickled  down  the  glass,  stretching  out 
wearily,  listening  to  the  wind.  It  was  cold 
and  bleak  outside  and  she  had  much  to  be 
thankful  for. 

She  was  glad  that  she  had  not  allowed  the 
mysterious  inhabitant  of  the  cabin  to  sleep 
out  in  his  tarpaulin,  for  the  howling  of  the 
wind  brought  weird  thoughts  into  her  mind ; 

40 


THE   DIM   TRAIL  41 

she  reflected  upon  her  helplessness  and  it 
was  extremely  satisfying  to  know  that  within 
ten  feet  of  her  lay  a  man  whose  two  big  re- 
volvers— even  though  she  feared  them — 
seemed  to  insure  protection.  It  was  odd, 
she  told  herself,  that  she  should  place  so 
much  confidence  in  Dakota,  and  her  pres- 
ence in  the  cabin  with  him  was  certainly  a 
breach  of  propriety  which — were  her  friends 
in  the  East  to  hear  of  it — would  arouse  much 
comment — entirely  unfavorable  to  her.  Yes, 
it  was  odd,  yet  considering  Dakota,  she  was 
not  in  the  least  disturbed.  So  far  his  con- 
duct toward  her  had  been  that  of  the  perfect 
gentleman,  and  in  spite  of  the  recklessness 
that  gleamed  in  his  eyes  whenever  he  looked 
at  her  she  was  certain  that  he  would  continue 
to  be  a  gentleman. 

It  was  restful  to  lie  and  listen  to  the  rain 
splashing  on  the  roof  and  against  the  win- 
dow, but  sleep,  for  some  unaccountable  rea- 
son, seemed  to  grow  farther  from  her — the 
recollection  of  events  during  the  past  few 
hours  left  no  room  in  her  thoughts  for  sleep. 
Turning,  after  a  while,  to  seek  a  more  com- 
fortable position,  she  saw  Dakota  sitting  at 


42     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

the  table,  on  the  side  opposite  her,  watching 
her  intently. 

"  Can't  sleep,  eh?"  he  said,  when  he  saw 
her  looking  at  him.    "  Storm  bother  you? " 

"  I  think  it  was  the  thunder  that  awak- 
ened me,"  she  returned.  "  Thunder  always 
does.    Evidently  it  disturbs  you  too." 

"  I  haven't  been  asleep,"  he  said  in  a  curt 
tone. 

He  continued  to  watch  her  with  a  quiet, 
appraising  gaze.  It  was  evident  that  he 
had  been  thinking  of  her  when  she  had 
turned  to  look  at  him.  She  flushed  with  em- 
barrassment over  the  thought  that  while  she 
had  been  asleep  he  must  have  been  consider- 
ing her,  and  yet,  looking  closely  at  him  now, 
she  decided  that  his  expression  was  frankly 
impersonal. 

He  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  You've  been 
asleep  two  hours,"  he  said.  "  I've  been 
watching  you — and  envying  you." 

"  Envying  me?  Why?  Are  you  troubled 
with  insomnia?  " 

He  laughed.  "  Nothing  so  serious  as  that. 
It's  just  thoughts." 

"  Pleasant  ones,  of  course." 


THE   DIM   TRAIL  43 

"  You  might  call  them  pleasant,  I've 
beer*  thinking  of  you." 

Sheila  found  no  reply  to  make  to  this,  but 
blushed  again. 

"  Thinking  of  you,"  repeated  Dakota. 
"  Of  the  chance  you  took  in  coming  out  here 
alone — in  coming  into  my  shack.  We*re 
twenty  miles  from  town  here — twenty  miles 
from  the  Double  R — the  nearest  ranch.  It 
isn't  likely  that  a  soul  will  pass  here  for  a 
month.    Suppose " 

"  We  won't '  suppose/  if  you  please,"  said 
Sheila.  Her  face  had  grown  slowly  pale, 
but  there  was  a  confident  smile  on  her  lips 
as  she  looked  at  him. 

"No?"  he  said,  watching  her  steadily. 
"  Why?  Isn't  it  quite  possible  that  you 
could  have  fallen  in  with  a  sort  of  man " 

"  As  it  happens,  I  did  not,"  interrupted 
Sheila. 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

Sheila's  gaze  met  his  unwaveringly.  "  Be- 
cause you  are  the  man,"  she  said  slowly. 

She  thought  she  saw  a  glint  of  pleasure 
in  his  eyes,  but  was  not  quite  certain,  for  his 
expression  changed  instantly. 


44    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Fate,  or  Providence — or  whatever  you 
are  pleased  to  call  the  power  that  shuffles  us 
flesh  and  blood  mannikins  around — has  a 
way  of  putting  us  all  in  the  right  places.  I 
expect  that's  one  of  the  reasons  why  you 
didn't  fall  in  with  the  sort  of  man  I  was  go- 
ing to  tell  you  about,"  said  Dakota. 

"  I  don't  see  what  Fate  has  to  do — "  be- 
gan Sheila,  wondering  at  his  serious  tone. 

"  Odd,  isn't  it? "  he  drawled. 

"What  is  odd?" 

"  That  you  don't  see.  But  lots  of  people 
don't  see.  They're  chucked  and  shoved 
around  like  men  on  a  chess  board,  and 
though  they're  always  interested  they  don't 
usually  know  what  it's  all  about.  Just  as 
well  too —  usually." 

"  I  don't  see " 

He  smiled  mysteriously.  "Did  I  say 
that  I  expected  you  to  see?"  he  said. 
"  There  isn't  anything  personal  in  this,  aside 
from  the  fact  that  I  was  trying  to  show  you 
that  some  one  was  foolish  in  sending  you  out 
here  alone.  Some  day  you'll  look  back  on 
your  visit  here  and  then  you'll  understand." 

He  got  up  and  walked  to  the  door,  open- 


THE  DIM   TRAIL  45 

ing  it  and  standing  there  looking  put  into 
the  darkness.  Shelia  watched  him,  puzzled 
by  his  mysterious  manner,  though  not  in  the 
least  afraid  of  him.  Several  times  while 
he  stood  at  the  door  he  turned  and  looked  at 
her  and  presently,  when  a  gust  of  wind 
rushed  in  and  Sheila  shivered,  he  abruptly 
closed  the  door,  barred  it,  and  strode  to  the 
fireplace,  throwing  a  fresh  log  into  it.  For 
a  time  he  stood  silently  in  front  of  the  fire, 
his  figure  casting  a  long,  gaunt  shadow  at 
Sheila's  feet,  his  gaze  on  her,  grim,  somber 
lines  in  his  face*  Presently  he  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  How  old  are  you?  "  he  said  shortly. 

"  Twenty-two." 

"And  you've  lived  East  all  your  life. 
Lived  well,  too,  I  suppose — plenty  of 
money,  luxuries,  happiness? " 

He  caught  her  nod  and  continued,  his  lips 
curling  a  little.  "  Your  father  too,  I 
reckon — has  he  been  happy?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  That's  odd."  He  had  spoken  more  to 
himself  than  to  Sheila  and  he  looked  at  her 
with  narrowed  eyes  when  she  answered. 


46    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  What  is  odd?  That  my  father  should 
be  happy — that  I  should?  " 

"  Odd  that  anyone  who  is  happy  in  one 
place  should  want  to  leave  that  place  and 
go  to  another.  Maybe  the  place  he  went 
to  wouldn't  be  just  right  for  him.  What 
makes  people  want  to  move  around  like 
that?" 

"  Perhaps  you  could  answer  that  your- 
self," suggested  Sheila.  "  I  am  sure  that 
you  haven't  lived  here  in  this  part  of  the 
country  all  your  life. 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  His  gaze 
was  quizzical  and  mocking. 

"  I  don't  know.     But  you  haven't." 

"  Well,"  he  said  we'll  say  I  haven't.  But 
I  wasn't  happy  where  I  came  from  and  I 
came  here  looking  for  happiness — and  some- 
thing else.  That  I  didn't  find  what  I  was 
looking  for  isn't  the  question — mostly  none 
of  us  find  the  things  we're  looking  for.  But 
if  I  had  been  happy  where  I  was  I  wouldn't 
have  come  here.  You  say  your  father  has 
been  happy  there;  that  he's  got  plenty  of 
money  and  all  that.  Then  why  should  he 
want  to  live  here?  " 


THE   DIM   TRAIL  47 

"  I  believe  I  told  you  that  he  is  coming 
here  for  his  health." 

His  eyes  lighted  savagely.  But  Sheila 
did  not  catch  their  expression  for  at  that 
moment  she  was  looking  at  his  shadow  on 
the  floor.  How  long,  how  grotesque,  it 
seemed,  and  forbidding — like  its  owner. 

"  So  he's  got  everything  he  wants  but  his 
health.     What  made  him  lose  that?  " 

"How  should  I  know?" 

"Just  lost  it,  I  reckon,"  said  Dakota 
subtly.     "  Cares  and  Worry?  " 

"I  presume.  His  health  has  been  failing 
for  about  ten  years." 

Sheila  was  looking  straight  at  Dakota 
now  and  she  saw  his  face  whiten,  his  lips 
harden.  And  when  he  spoke  again  there 
was  a  chill  in  his  voice  and  a  distinct  pause 
between  his  words. 

"  Ten  years,"  he  said.  "  That's  a  long 
time,  isn't  it?     A  long  time  for  a  man  who 

has  been  losing  his  health.     And  yet " 

There  was  a  mirthless  smile  on  Dakota's 
face — "  ten  years  is  a  longer  time  for  a  man 
in  good  health  who  hasn't  been  happy. 
Couldn't  your  father  have  doctored — gone 


48     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

abroad — to  recover  his  health?  Or  was  his 
a  mental  sickness?" 

"Mental,  I  think.  He  worried  quite  a 
little." 

Dakota  turned  from  her,  but  not  quickly- 
enough  to  conceal  the  light  of  savage  joy 
that  flashed  suddenly  into  his  eyes. 

"Why!"  exclaimed  Sheila,  voicing  her 
surprise  at  the  startling  change  in  his  man- 
ner; "  that  seems  to  please  you! " 

"It  does."  He  laughed  oddly.  "It 
pleases  me  to  find  that  I'm  to  have  a  neigh- 
bor who  is  afflicted  with  the  sort  of  sickness 
that  has  been  bothering  me  for — for  a  good 
many  years." 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  Sheila 
yawned  and  Dakota  stood  motionless,  look- 
ing straight  ahead. 

"  You  like  your  father,  I  reckon?"  came 
his  voice  presently,  as  his  gaze  went  to  her 
again. 

"  Of  course."  She  looked  up  at  him  in 
surprise.     "Why  shouldn't  I  like  him?" 

"  Of  course  you  like  him.  Mostly  chil- 
dren like  their  fathers." 

"Children!"     She  glared  scornfully  at 


THE   DIM   TRAIL  49 

him.  "I  am  twenty-two!  I  told  you  that 
before!" 

"  So  you  did,"  he  returned,  unruffled. 
"  When  is  he  coming  out  here? " 

"In  a  month — a  month  from  to-day." 
She  regarded  him  with  a  sudden,  new  in- 
terest. "  You  are  betraying  a  great  deal  of 
curiosity,"  she  accused.     "  Why? " 

"  Why,"  he  answered  slowly,  "  I  reckon 
that  isn't  odd,  is  it?  He's  going  to  be  my 
neighbor,  isn't  he?" 

"Oh!"  she  said  with  emphasis  of  mock- 
ery which  equalled  his.  "  And  you  are  gos- 
siping about  your  neighbor  even  before  he 
comes." 

"  Like  a  woman,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

"  An  impertinent  one,"  she  retorted. 

"  Your  father,"  he  said  in  accents  of  sar- 
casm, ignoring  the  jibe,  "  seems  to  think  a 
heap  of  you — sending  you  all  the  way  out 
here  alone." 

"  I  came  against  his  wish;  he  wanted  me 
to  wait  and  come  with  him." 

Her  defense  of  her  parent  seemed  to 
amuse  him.  He  smiled  mysteriously. 
"Then  he  likes  you?" 


50    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"Is  that  strange?  He  hasn't  any  one 
else — no  relative.     I  am  the  only  one." 

"  You're  the  only  one."  He  repeated 
her  words  slowly,  regarding  her  narrowly, 
"  And  he  likes  you.  I  reckon  he'd  be  hurt 
quite  a  little  if  you  had  fallen  in  with  the 
sort  of  man  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about." 

"  Naturally."  Sheila  was  tapping  with 
her  booted  foot  on  his  shadow  on  the  floor 
and  did  not  look  at  him. 

"  It's  a  curious  thing,"  he  said  slowly,  af- 
ter an  interval,  "  that  a  man  who  has  got  a 
treasure  grows  careless  of  it  in  time.  It's 
natural,  too.  But  I  reckon  fate  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  it.  Ten  chances  to  one  if 
nothing  happens  to  you  your  father  will  con- 
sider himself  lucky.  But  suppose  you  had 
happened  to  fall  in  with  a  different  man 
than  me — we'll  say,  for  instance,  a  man  who 
had  a  grudge  against  your  father — and  that 
man  didn't  have  that  uncommon  quality 
called  '  mercy/  What  then?  Ten  chances 
to  one  your  father  would  say  it  was  fate  that 
had  led  you  to  him." 

"  I  think,"  she  said  scornfully,  "  that  you 


THE  DIM   TRAIL  51 

are  talking  silly!  In  the  first  place,  I  don't 
believe  my  father  thinks  that  I  am  a  treas- 
ure, though  he  likes  me  very  much.  In  the 
second  place,  if  he  does  think  that  I  am  a 
treasure,  he  is  very  much  mistaken,  for  I  am 
not — I  am  a  woman  and  quite  able  to  take 
care  of  myself.  You  have  exhibited  a  won- 
derful curiosity  over  my  father  and  me,  and 
though  it  has  all  been  mystifying  and  en- 
tertaining, I  don't  purpose  to  talk  to  you 
all  night." 

"  I  didn't  waken  you,"  he  mocked. 

Sheila  swung  around  on  the  bunk,  her 
back  to  him.  "  You  are  keeping  me  awake," 
she  retorted. 

"Well,  good  night  then,"  he  laughed, 
"Miss  Sheila." 

"  Good  night,  Mr. — Mr.  Dakota,"  she  re- 
turned. 

Sheila  did  not  hear  him  again.  Her 
thoughts  dwelt  for  a  little  time  on  him  and 
his  mysterious  manner,  then  they  strayed. 
They  returned  presently  and  she  concen- 
trated her  attention  on  the  rain;  she  could 
hear  the  soft,  steady  patter  of  it  on  the  roof; 


52    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

she  listened  to  it  trickling  from  the  eaves  and 
striking  the  glass  in  the  window  above  her 
head.  Gradually  the  soft  patter  seemed  to 
draw  farther  away,  became  faint,  and  more 
faint,  and  finally  she  heard  it  no  more. 


CHAPTER  III 

CONVERGING  TKAILS 

IT  was  the  barking  of  a  dog  that  brought 
Sheila  out  of  a  sleep — dreamless  this 
time — into  a  state  of  semi-consciousness. 
It  was  Dakota's  dog  surely,  she  decided 
sleepily.  She  sighed  and  twisted  to  a  more 
comfortable  position.  The  effort  awakened 
her  and  she  opened  her  eyes,  her  gaze  rest- 
ing immediately  on  Dakota.  He  still  sat  at 
the  table,  silent,  immovable,  as  before.  But 
now  he  was  sitting  erect,  his  muscles  tensed, 
his  chin  thrust  out  aggressively,  his  gaze  on 
the  door — listening.  He  seemed  to  be  un- 
aware of  Sheila's  presence;  the  sound  that 
she  had  made  in  turning  he  apparently  had 
not  heard. 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence  and  then 
came  a  knocking  on  the  door — loud,  unmis- 
takable. Some  one  desired  admittance. 
After  the  knock  came  a  voice: 

58 


54    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"Hello  inside !' 

"  Hello  yourself! "  Dakota's  voice  came 
with  a  truculent  snap.     "What's  up?" 

"  Lookin'  for  a  dry  place,"  came  the  voice 
from  without.  "  Mebbe  you  don't  know  it's 
wet  out  here !  " 

Sheila's  gaze  was  riveted  on  Dakota.  He 
arose  and  noiselessly  moved  his  chair  back 
from  the  table  and  she  saw  a  saturnine  smile 
on  his  face,  yet  in  his  eyes  there  shone  a 
glint  of  intolerance  that  mingled  oddly  with 
his  gravity. 

"  You  alone?  "  he  questioned,  his  gaze  on 
the  door. 

"Yes." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  Campbellite  preacher." 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  been 
awake  Dakota  turned  and  looked  at  Sheila. 
The  expression  of  his  face  puzzled  her.  "  A 
parson ! "  he  sneered  in  a  low  voice.  "  I 
reckon  we'll  have  some  praying  now."  He 
took  a  step  forward,  hesitated,  and  looked 
back  at  Sheila.  "Do  you  want  him  in 
here?" 

Sheila's  nod  brought  a  whimsical,  shallow 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        55 

smile  to  his  face.  "  Of  course  you  do — 
you're  lonesome  in  here."  There  was 
mockery  in  his  voice.  He  deliberately 
drew  out  his  two  guns,  examined  them  min- 
utely, returned  one  to  his  holster,  retaining 
the  other  in  his  right  hand.  With  a  cold 
grin  at  Sheila  he  snuffed  out  the  candle  be- 
tween a  finger  and  a  thumb  and  strode  to 
the  door — Sheila  could  hear  him  fumbling 
at  the  fastenings.  He  spoke  to  the  man  out- 
side sharply. 

"Come  in!" 

There  was  a  movement ;  a  square  of  light 
appeared  in  the  wall  of  darkness;  there 
came  a  step  on  the  threshold.  Watching, 
Sheila  saw,  framed  in  the  open  doorway,  the 
dim  outlines  of  a  figure — a  man. 

"  Stand  right  there,"  came  Dakota's  voice 
from  somewhere  in  the  impenetrable  dark- 
ness of  the  interior,  and  Sheila  wondered  at 
the  hospitality  that  greeted  a  stranger  with 
total  darkness  and  a  revolver.  "  Light  a 
match." 

After  a  short  interval  of  silence  there 
came  the  sound  of  a  match  scratching  on 
the  wall,  and  a  light  flared  up,  showing 


56    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  the  face  of  a  man  of  sixty,  bronzed, 
bearded,  with  gentle,  quizzical  eyes. 

The  light  died  down,  the  man  waited. 
Sheila  had  forgotten — in  her  desire  to  see 
the  face  of  the  visitor — to  look  for  Dakota, 
but  presently  she  heard  his  voice : 

"  I  reckon  you're  a  parson,  all  right. 
Close  the  door." 

The  parson  obeyed  the  command.  "  Light 
the  candle  on  the  table!"  came  the  order 
from  Dakota.  "  I'm  not  taking  any 
chances  until  I  get  a  better  look  at  you." 

Another  match  flared  up  and  the  parson 
advanced  to  the  table  and  lighted  the  candle. 
He  smiled  while  applying  the  match  to  the 
wick.  *  Don't  pay  to  take  no  chances — on 
anything,"  he  agreed.  He  stood  jsrect,  a 
tall  man,  rugged  and  active  for  his  sixty 
years,  and  threw  off  a  rain-soaked  tarpau- 
lin. Some  traces  of  dampness  were  visible 
on  his  clothing,  but  in  the  circumstances  he 
had  not  fared  so  badly. 

"  It's  a  new  trail  to  me — I  don't  know  the 
country,"  he  went  on.  "If  I  hadn't  seen 
your  light  I  reckon  I'd  have  been  goin'  yet. 
I  was  thinkin'  that  it  was  mighty  queer  that 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        57 

you'd    have    a    light    goin'    so "    He 

stopped  short,  seeing  Sheila  sitting  on  the 
bunk.  "  Shucks,  ma'am,"  he  apologized, 
"  I  didn't  know  you  were  there,"  His  hat 
came  off  and  dangled  in  his  left  hand;  with 
the  other  he  brushed  back  the  hair  from  his 
forehead,  smiling  meanwhile  at  Sheila. 

"  Why,  ma'am,"  he  said  apologetically, 
"  if  your  husband  had  told  me  you  was  here 
I'd  have  gone  right  on  an'  not  bothered 
you." 

Sheila's  gaze  went  from  the  parson's  face 
and  sought  Dakota's,  a  crimson  flood 
spreading  over  her  face  and  temples.  A 
slow,  amused  gleam  filled  Dakota's  eyes. 
But  plainly  he  did  not  intend  to  set  the  par- 
son right — he  was  enjoying  Sheila's  confu- 
sion. The  color  fled  from  her  face  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  come  and  was  succeeded  by 
the  pallor  of  a  cold  indignation. 

"  I'm  not  married,"  she  said  instantly  to 
the  parson;  "this  gentleman  is  not  my  hus- 
band." 

"Not?"  questioned  the  parson.  "Then 
how — "  He  hesitated  and  looked  quickly 
at  Dakota,   but  the  latter  was   watching 


58     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  with  an  odd  smile  and  the  parson 
looked  puzzled. 

"  This  is  my  first  day  in  this  country/5 
explained  Sheila. 

The  parson  did  not  reply  to  this,  though 
he  continued  to  watch  her  intently.  She 
met  his  gaze  steadily  and  he  smiled.  "  I 
reckon  you've  been  caught  on  the  trail  too," 
he  said,  "  by  the  storm." 

Sheila  nodded. 

"  Well,  it's  been  right  wet  to-night,  an'  it 
ain't  no  night  to  be  galivantin  'around  the 
country.     Where  you  goin'  to?" 

"  To  the  Double  R  ranch." 

"  Where's  the  Double  R?  "  asked  the  par- 
son. 

"West,"  Dakota  answered  for  Sheila; 
"  twenty  miles." 

11  Off  my  trail,"  said  the  parson.  "  I'm 
travelin'  to  Lazette."  He  laughed,  shortly. 
"  I'm  askin'  your  pardon,  ma'am,  for  takin' 
you  to  be  married;  you  don't  look  like  you 
belonged  here — I  ought  to  have  knowed 
that  right  off." 

Sheila  told  him  that  he  was  forgiven  and 
he  had  no  comment  to  make  on  this,  but 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        59 

looked  at  her  appraisingly.  He  drew  a 
bench  up  near  the  fire  and  sat  looking  at 
the  licking  flames,  the  heat  drawing  the 
steam  from  his  clothing  as  the  latter  dried. 
Dakota  supplied  him  with  soda  biscuit  and 
cold  bacon,  and  these  he  munched  in  content- 
ment, talking  meanwhile  of  his  travels.  Sev- 
eral times  while  he  sat  before  the  fire  Da- 
kota spoke  to  him,  and  finally  he  pulled  his 
chair  over  near  the  wall  opposite  the  bunk 
on  which  Sheila  sat,  tilted  it  back,  and 
dropped  into  it,  stretching  out  comfortably. 
After  seating  himself,  Dakota's  gaze 
sought  Sheila.  It  was  evident  to  Sheila  that 
he  was  thinking  pleasant  thoughts,  for  sev- 
eral times  she  looked  quickly  at  him  to  catch 
him  smiling.  Once  she  met  his  gaze  fairly 
and  was  certain  that  she  saw  a  crafty,  calcu- 
lating gleam  in  his  eyes.  She  was  puzzled, 
though  there  was  nothing  of  fear  from  Da- 
kota now;  the  presence  of  the  parson  in  the 
cabin  assured  her  of  safety. 

A  half  hour  dragged  by.  The  parson 
did  not  appear  to  be  sleepy.  Sheila  glanced 
at  her  watch  and  saw  that  it  was  midnight. 
She  wondered  much  at  the  parson's  wake- 


60    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

fulness  and  her  own  weariness.  But  she 
could  safely  go  to  sleep  now,  she  told  her- 
self, and  she  stretched  noiselessly  out  on  the 
bunk  and  with  one  arm  bent  under  her  head 
listened  to  the  parson. 

Evidently  the  parson  was  itinerant;  he 
spoke  of  many  places — Wyoming,  Colo- 
rado, Nevada,  Arizona,  Texas;  of  towns  in 
New  Mexico.  To  Sheila,  her  senses  dulled 
by  the  drowsiness  that  was  stealing  over  her, 
it  appeared  that  the  parson  was  a  foe  to 
Science.  His  volubility  filled  the  cabin;  he 
contended  sonorously  that  the  earth  was  not 
round.  The  Scriptures,  he  maintained, 
held  otherwise.  He  called  Dakota's  atten- 
tion to  the  seventh  chapter  of  Revelation, 
verse  one : 

"  And  after  these  things  I  saw  four  an- 
gels standing  on  the  four  corners  of  the 
earth,  holding  the  four  winds  of  the  earth, 
that  the  wind  should  not  blow  on  the  earth, 
nor  on  the  sea,  nor  on  any  tree." 

Several  times  Sheila  heard  Dakota  laugh, 
mockingly;  he  was  skeptical,  caustic  even, 
and  he  took  issue  with  the  parson.  Be- 
tween them  they  managed  to  prevent  her 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        61 

falling  asleep ;  kept  her  in  a  semidoze  which 
was  very  near  to  complete  wakefulness. 

After  a  time,  though,  the  argument  grew 
monotonous;  the  droning  of  their  voices 
seemed  gradually  to  grow  distant;  Sheila 
lost  interest  in  the  conversation  and  sank 
deeper  into  her  doze.  How  long  she  had 
been  unconscious  of  them  she  did  not  know, 
but  presently  she  was  awake  again  and  lis- 
tening. Dakota's  laugh  had  awakened  her. 
Out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes  she  saw  that 
he  was  still  seated  in  the  chair  beside  the 
wall  and  that  his  eyes  were  alight  with  in- 
terest as  he  watched  the  parson. 

"  So  you're  going  to  Lazette,  taking  it  on 
to  him?" 

The  parson  nodded,  smiling.  "When  a 
man  wants  to  get  married  he'll  not  care 
much  about  the  arrangements — how  it  gets 
done.  What  he  wants  to  do  is  to  get  mar- 
ried." 

"That's  a  queer  angle,"  Dakota  observed. 
He  laughed  immoderately. 

The  parson  laughed  with  him.  It  was  an 
odd  situation,  he  agreed.  Never,  in  all  his 
experience,  had  he  heard  of  anything  like  it. 


62    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

He  had  stopped  for  a  few  hours  at  Dry 
Bottom.  While  there  a  rider  had  passed 
through,  carrying  word  that  a  certain  man 
in  Lazette,  called  "Baldy,"  desired  to  get 
married.  There  was  no  minister  in  Lazette, 
not  even  a  justice  of  the  peace.  But  Baldy 
wanted  to  be  married,  and  his  bride-to-be 
objected  to  making  the  trip  to  Dry  Bottom, 
where  there  were  both  a  parson  and  a  justice 
of  the  peace.  Therefore,  failing  to  induce 
the  lady  to  go  to  the  parson,  it  followed  that 
Baldy  must  contrive  to  have  the  parson 
come  to  the  lady.  He  dispatched  the  rider 
to  Dry  Bottom  on  this  quest. 

The  rider  had  found  that  there  was  no 
regular  parson  in  Dry  Bottom  and  that  the 
justice  of  the  peace  had  departed  the  day 
before  to  some  distant  town  for  a  visit. 
Luckily  for  Baldy's  matrimonial  plans,  the 
parson  had  been  in  Dry  Bottom  when  the 
rider  arrived,  and  he  readily  consented — as 
he  intended  to  pass  through  Lazette  anyway 
— to  carry  Baldy's  license  to  him  and  per- 
form the  ceremony. 

"Odd,  ain't  it?"  remarked  the  parson, 
after  he  had  concluded. 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        63 

"  That's  a  queer  angle,"  repeated  Dakota. 
c  You  got  the  license? "  he  inquired  softly. 
"  Mebbe  you've  lost  it." 

"  I  reckon  not."  The  parson  fumbled  in 
a  pocket,  drawing  out  a  folded  paper.  "  I've 
got  it,  right  enough." 

'You've  got  no  objections  to  me  looking 
at  it?"  came  Dakota's  voice.  Sheila  saw 
him  rise.  There  was  a  strange  smile  on  his 
face. 

"  No  objections.  I  reckon  you'll  be  usin' 
one  yourself  one  of  these  days." 

"  One  of  these  days,"  echoed  Dakota  with 
a  laugh  as  strange  as  his  smile  a  moment  be- 
fore. "Yes — I'm  thinking  of  using  one 
one  of  these  days." 

The  parson  spread  the  paper  out  on  the 
table.  Together  he  and  Dakota  bent  their 
heads  over  it.  After  reading  the  license  Da- 
kota stood  erect.  He  laughed,  looking  at 
the  parson. 

"  There  ain't  a  name  on  it,"  he  said,  "  not 
a  name." 

"  They're  reckonin*  to  fill  in  the  names 
when  they're  married,"  explained  the  par- 
son.    "  That    there    rider    ought    to    have 


64    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

knowed  the  names,  but  he  didn't.  Only 
knowed  that  the  man  was  called  *  Baldy.' 
Didn't  know  the  bride's  name  at  all.  But  it 
don't  make  any  difference;  they  wouldn't 
have  had  to  have  a  license  at  all  in  this  Ter- 
ritory. But  it  makes  it  look  more  regular 
when  they've  got  one.  All  that's  got  to  be 
done  is  for  Baldy  to  go  over  to  Dry  Bottom 
an'  have  the  names  recorded.  Bern'  as  I 
can't  go,  I'm  to  certify  in  the  license." 

"  Sure,"  said  Dakota  slowly.  "  It  makes 
things  more  regular  to  have  a  license — more 
regular  to  have  you  certify." 

Looking  at  Dakota,  Sheila  thought  she 
saw  in  his  face  a  certain  preoccupation;  he 
was  evidently  not  thinking  of  what  he  was 
saying  at  all;  the  words  had  come  involun- 
tarily, automatically  almost,  it  seemed,  so 
inexpressive  were  they.  "  Sure,"  he  re- 
peated, "  you're  to  certify,  in  the  license." 

It  was  as  though  he  were  reading  aloud 
from  a  printed  page,  his  thoughts  elsewhere, 
and  seeing  only  the  words  and  uttering  them 
unconsciously.  Some  idea  had  formed  in  his 
brain,  he  meditated  some  surprising  action. 
That   she  was   concerned  in  his  thoughts 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        65 

Sheila  did  not  doubt,  for  he  presently  turned 
and  looked  straight  at  her  and  in  his  eyes  she 
saw  a  new  expression — a  cold,  designing 
gleam  that  frightened  her. 

Five  minutes  later,  when  the  parson  an- 
nounced his  intention  to  care  for  his  horse 
before  retiring  and  stood  in  the  doorway 
preparatory  to  going  out,  Sheila  restrained 
an  impulse  to  call  to  him  to  remain.  She 
succeeded  in  quieting  her  fears,  however,  by 
assuring  herself  that  nothing  could  happen 
now,  with  the  parson  so  near.  Thus  forti- 
fied, she  smiled  at  Dakota  as  the  parson 
stepped  down  and  closed  the  door. 

She  drew  a  startled  breath  in  the  next  in- 
stant, though,  for  without  noticing  her  smile 
Dakota  stepped  to  the  door  and  barred  it. 
Turning,  he  stood  with  his  back  against  it, 
his  lips  in  straight,  hard  lines,  his  eyes  steady 
and  gleaming  brightly. 

He  caught  Sheila's  gaze  and  held  it;  she 
trembled  and  sat  erect. 

"  It's  odd,  ain't  it?  "  he  said,  in  the  mock- 
ing voice  that  he  had  used  when  using  the 
same  words  earlier  in  the  evening. 

"What  is  odd?"     Hers  was  the  same 


m    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

answer  that  she  had  used  before,  too — she 
could  think  of  nothing  else  to  say, 

"  Odd  that  he  should  come  along  just  at 
this  time."  He  indicated  the  door  through 
which  the  parson  had  disappeared.  "  You 
and  me  are  here,  and  he  comes.  Who  sent 
him?" 

"  Chance,  I  suppose,"  Sheila  answered, 
though  she  could  feel  that  there  was  a  subtle 
undercurrent  in  his  speech,  and  she  felt 
again  the  strange  unrest  that  had  affected 
her  several  times  before. 

"  You  think  it  was  chance,"  he  said,  drawl- 
ing his  words.  "  Well,  maybe  that's  just  as 
good  a  name  for  it  as  any  other.  But  we 
don't  all  see  things  the  same  way,  do  we? 
We  couldn't,  of  course,  because  we've  all 
got  different  things  to  do.  We  think  this  is 
a  big  world  and  that  we  play  a  big  game. 
But  it's  a  little  world  and  a  little  game  when 
Fate  takes  a  hand  in  it.  I  told  you  a  while 
ago  that  Fate  had  a  queer  way  of  shuffling 
us  around.  That's  a  fact.  And  Fate  is 
running  this  game."  His  mocking  laugh 
had  a  note  of  grimness  in  it,  which  brought 
a    chill    over    Sheila.    "  Just    now,    Miss 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        67 

Sheila,  Fate  is  playing  with  brides  and 
bridegrooms  and  marriages  and  parsons. 
That's  what  is  so  odd.  Fate  has  supplied 
the  parson  and  the  license;  we'll  supply  the 
names.  Look  at  the  bridegroom,  Shelia," 
he  directed,  tapping  his  breast  with  a  finger ; 
"  this  is  your  wedding  day ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  Sheila  was  on  her 
feet,  trembling,  her  face  white  with  fear  and 
dread. 

"  That  we're  to  be  married,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing at  her,  and  she  noted  with  a  qualm  that 
there  was  no  mirth  in  the  smile,  "  you  and 
me.    The  parson  will  tie  the  knot." 

"This  is  a  joke,  I  suppose?"  she  said 
scornfully,  attempting  a  lightness  that  she 
did  not  feel ;  "  a  crude  one,  to  be  sure,  for 
you  certainly  cannot  be  serious." 

11 1  was  never  more  serious  in  my  life," 
he  said  slowly.  "  We  are  to  be  married 
when  the  parson  comes  in." 

"  How  do  you  purpose  to  accomplish 
this?"  she  jeered.  "The  parson  certainly 
will  not  perform  a  marriage  ceremony  with- 
out the  consent  of — without  my  consent." 

"  I  think,"  he  said  coldly,  "  that  you  will 


68    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

consent.  I  am  not  in  a  trifling  mood.  Just 
now  it  pleases  me  to  imagine  that  I  am  an 
instrument  of  Fate.  Maybe  that  sounds 
mysterious  to  you,  but  some  day  you  will  be 
able  to  see  just  how  logical  it  all  seems  to  me 
now,  that  Fate  has  sent  me  a  pawn — a  sub- 
ject, if  you  please — to  sacrifice,  that  the 
game  which  I  have  been  playing  may  be  car- 
ried to  its  conclusion." 

Outside  they  heard  the  dog  bark,  heard 
the  parson  speak  to  it. 

"  The  parson  is  coming,"  said  Sheila,  her 
joy  over  the  impending  interruption  show- 
ing in  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  he  is  coming."  Still  with  his  back 
to  the  door,  Dakota  deliberately  drew  out 
one  of  his  heavy  pistols  and  examined  it  min- 
utely, paying  no  attention  to  Sheila.  Her 
eyes  widened  with  fear  as  the  hand  holding 
the  weapon  dropped  to  his  side  and  he 
looked  at  her  again. 

"What  are  you  doing  to  do?"  she  de- 
manded, watching  these  forbidding  prepara- 
tions with  dilated  eyes. 

"That  depends,"  he  returned  with  a 
chilling  laugh.    "Have  you  ever  seen  a 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        69 

man  die?  No?"  he  continued  as  she  shud- 
dered. "Well,  if  you  don't  consent  to 
marry  me  you  will  see  the  parson  die.  I 
have  decided  to  give  you  the  choice,  ma'am," 
he  went  on  in  a  quiet,  determined  voice,  en- 
tirely free  from  emotion.  "  Sacrifice  your- 
self and  the  parson  lives ;  refuse  and  I  shoot 
the  parson  down  the  instant  he  steps  inside 
the  door." 

"  Oh!"  she  cried  in  horror,  taking  a  step 
toward  him  and  looking  into  his  eyes  for  evi- 
dence of  insincerity — for  the  slightest  sign 
that  would  tell  her  that  he  was  merely  try- 
ing to  scare  her.  "  Oh!  you — you  coward!  " 
she  cried,  for  she  saw  nothing  in  his  eyes  but 
cold  resolution. 

He  smiled  with  straight  lips.  "  You 
see,"  he  mocked,  "  how  odd  it  is  ?  Fate  is 
shuffling  us  three  in  this  game.  You  have 
your  choice.  Do  you  care  to  be  responsible 
for  the  death  of  a  fellow  being?  " 

For  a  tense  instant  she  looked  at  him, 
and  seeing  the  hard,  inexorable  glitter  in  his 
eyes  she  cringed  away  from  him  and  sank  to 
the  edge  of  the  bunk,  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands. 


70    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

During  the  silence  that  followed  she 
could  hear  the  parson  outside — his  voice,  and 
the  yelping  of  the  dog — evidently  they  had 
formed  a  friendship.  The  sounds  came 
nearer ;  Sheila  heard  the  parson  try  the  door. 
She  became  aware  that  Dakota  was  stand- 
ing over  her  and  she  looked  up,  shivering, 
to  see  his  face,  still  hard  and  unyielding. 

"  I  am  going  to  open  the  door,"  he  said. 
"  Is  it  you  or  the  parson?" 

At  that  word  she  was  on  her  feet,  stand- 
ing before  him,  rigid  with  anger,  her  eyes 
flaming  with  scorn  and  hatred. 

"You  wouldn't  dare  to  do  it!"  she  said 

hoarsely;    "you — you "     She   snatched 

suddenly  for  the  butt  of  the  weapon  that 
swung  at  his  left  hip,  but  with  a  quick  mo- 
tion he  evaded  the  hand  and  stepped  back 
a  pace,  smiling  coldly. 

"  I  reckon  it's  the  parson,"  he  said  in  a 
low  voice,  which  carried  an  air  of  finality. 
He  started  for  the  door,  hesitated,  and  came 
back  to  the  bunk,  standing  in  front  of  Sheila, 
looking  down  into  her  eyes. 

"I  am  giving  you  one  last  chance,"  He 
told  her.     "  I  am  going  to  open  the  door. 


CONVERGING   TRAILS        71 

If  you  want  the  parson  to  die,  don't  look  at 
me  when  he  steps  in.  If  you  want  him  to 
live,  turn  your  back  to  him  and  walk  to  the 
fireplace." 

He  walked  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and 
stepped  back,  his  gaze  on  Sheila.  Then  the 
door  opened  slowly  and  the  parson  stood  on 
the  threshold,  smiling. 

"  It's  sure  some  wet  outside,"  he  said. 

Dakota  was  fingering  the  cylinder  of  his 
revolver,  his  gaze  now  riveted  on  the  parson. 

"Why,"  said  the  latter,  in  surprise,  see- 
ing the  attitudes  of  Dakota  and  his  guest, 
"  what  in  the  name  of " 

There  came  a  movement,  and  Sheila  stood 
in  front  of  Dakota,  between  him  and  the 
parson.  For  an  instant  she  stood,  looking 
at  Dakota  with  a  scornful,  loathing  gaze. 
Then  with  a  dry  sob,  which  caught  in  her 
throat,  she  moved  past  him  and  went  to  the 
fireplace,  where  she  stood  looking  down  at 
the  flames. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT 

IT  was  a  scene  of  wild,  virgin  beauty 
upon  which  Sheila  Langford  looked  as 
she  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  grassy  butte 
overlooking  the  Ute  River,  with  Duncan, 
the  Double  R  manager  stretched  out,  full 
length  beside  her,  a  gigantic  picture  on  Na- 
ture's canvas,  glowing  with  colors  which  the 
gods  had  spread  with  a  generous  touch. 

A  hundred  feet  below  Sheila  and  Dun- 
can the  waters  of  the  river  swept  around  the 
base  of  the  butte,  racing  over  a  rocky  bed 
toward  a  deep,  narrow  canyon  farther  down. 
Directly  opposite  the  butte .  rose  a  short 
slope,  forming  the  other  bank  of  the  river. 
From  the  crest  of  the  slope  began  a  plain 
that  stretched  for  many  miles,  merging  at 
the  horizon  into  some  pine-clad  foothills. 
Behind  the  foothills  were  the  ^mountains, 
their  snow  peaks  shimmering  in  a  white  sky 

72 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT,    73 

* — remote,  mysterious,  seeming  like  guar- 
dians of  another  world.  The  chill  of  the 
mountains  contrasted  sharply  with  the  slum- 
berous luxuriance  and  color  of  the  plains. 

Miles  of  grass,  its  green  but  slightly 
dulled  with  a  thin  covering  of  alkali  dust, 
spread  over  the  plain ;  here  and  there  a  grove 
of  trees  rose,  it  seemed,  to  break  the  monot- 
ony of  space.  To  the  right  the  river  doubled 
sharply,  the  farther  bank  fringed  with  alder 
and  aspen,  their  tall  stalks  nodding  above 
the  nondescript  river  weeds ;  the  near  bank  a 
continuing  wall  of  painted  buttes — red,  pic- 
turesque, ragged,  thrusting  upward  and  out- 
ward over  the  waters  of  the  river.  On  the 
left  was  a  stretch  of  broken  country.  Mam- 
moth boulders  were  strewn  here ;  weird  rocks 
arose  in  inconceivably  grotesque  formations ; 
lava  beds,  dull  and  gray,  circled  the  bald 
knobs  of  some  low  hills.  Above  it  all  swam 
the  sun,  filling  the  world  with  a  clear,  white 
light.  It  made  a  picture  whose  beauty 
might  have  impressed  the  most  unrespon- 
sive. Yet,  though  Sheila  was  looking  upon 
the  picture,  her  thoughts  were  dwelling  upon 
another. 


74    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

This  other  picture  was  not  so  beautiful, 
and  a  vague  unrest  gripped  Sheila's  heart 
as  she  reviewed  it,  carefully  going  over  each 
gloomy  detail.  It  was  framed  in  the  rain 
and  the  darkness  of  a  yesterday.  There 
was  a  small  clearing  there — a  clearing  in  a 
dense  wood  beside  a  river — the  same  river 
which  she  could  have  seen  below  her  now, 
had  she  looked.  In  the  foreground  was  a 
cabin.  She  entered  the  cabin  and  stood  be- 
side a  table  upon  which  burned  a  candle. 
A  man  stood  beside  the  table  also — a  reck- 
less-eyed man,  holding  a  heavy  revolver. 
Another  man  stood  there,  too — a  man  of 
God.  While  Shelia  watched  the  man's  lips 
opened ;  she  could  hear  the  words  that  came 
through  them — she  would  never  forget  them: 

"To  have  and  to  hold  from  this  day  forth 
*    •    i     till  death  do  you  part.     .     ." 

It  was  not  a  dream,  it  was  the  picture 
of  an  actual  occurrence.  She  saw  every  de- 
tail of  it.  She  could  hear  her  own  protests, 
her  threats,  her  pleadings;  she  lived  over 
again  her  terror  as  she  had  crouched  in  the 
bunk  until  the  dawn. 

The  man  had  not  molested  her,  had  not 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT    75 

even  spoken  to  her  after  the  ceremony;  had 
ignored  her  entirely.  When  the  dawn  came 
she  had  heard  him  talking  to  the  parson,  but 
could  not  catch  their  words.  Later  she  had 
mounted  her  pony  and  had  ridden  away 
through  the  sunshine  of  the  morning.  She 
had  been  married — it  was  her  wedding  day. 
When  she  had  reached  the  crest  of  a  long 
rise  after  her  departure  from  the  cabin  she 
had  halted  her  pony  to  look  back,  hoping 
that  it  all  might  have  been  a  dream.  But  it 
had  not  been  a  dream.  There  was  the  dense 
wood,  the  clearing,  and  the  cabin.  Beside 
them  was  the  river.  And  there,  riding 
slowly  away  over  the  narrow  trail  which  she 
had  traveled  the  night  before,  was  the  par- 
son— she  could  see  his  gray  beard  in  the 
white  sunlight.  Dry  eyed,  she  had  turned 
from  the  scene.  A  little  later,  turning 
again,  she  saw  the  parson  fade  into  the  hori- 
zon. That,  she  knew,  was  the  last  she 
would  ever  see  of  him.  He  had  gone  out 
of  her  life  forever — the  desert  had  swallowed 
him  up. 

But  the  picture  was  still  vivid ;  she  had 
Seen  it  during  every  waking  moment  of  the 


76    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

month  that  she  had  been  at  the  Double  R 
ranch;  it  was  before  her  every  night  in  her 
dreams.     It  would  not  fade. 

She  knew  that  the  other  picture  was  beau- 
tiful— the  picture  of  this  world  into  which 
she  had  ridden  so  confidently,  yet  she  was 
afraid  to  dwell  upon  it  for  fear  that  its 
beauty  would  seem  to  mock  her.  For  had 
not  nature  conspired  against  her?  Yet  she 
knew  that  she  alone  was  to  blame — she,  ob- 
stinate, willful,  heedless.  Had  not  her 
father  warned  her?  "Wait,"  he  had  said, 
and  the  words  flamed  before  her  eyes — 
"  wait  until  I  go.  Wait  a  month.  The 
West  is  a  new  country;  anything,  every- 
thing, can  happen  to  you  out  there — alone." 

"  Nothing  can  happen,"  had  been  her 
reply.  "  I  will  go  straight  from  Lazette 
to  the  Double  R.  See  that  you  telegraph 
instructions  to  Duncan  to  meet  me.  It  will 
be  a  change;  I  am  tired  of  the  East  and  im- 
patient to  be  away  from  it." 

Well,  she  had  found  a  change.  What 
would  her  father  say  when  he  heard  of  it — 
of  her  marriage  to  a  cowboy,  an  unprincipled 
Scoundrel?    What  could  he  say?     The  mar- 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT    77 

riage  could  be  annulled,  of  course!  it  was 
not  legal,  could  not  be  legal.  No  law  could 
be  drawn  which  would  recognize  a  marriage 
of  that  character,  and  she  knew  that  she  had 
only  to  tell  her  father  to  have  the  machinery 
of  the  law  set  in  motion.  Could  she  tell 
him?  Could  she  bear  his  reproaches,  his 
pity,  after  her  heedlessness? 

What  would  her  friends  say  when  they 
heard  of  it — as  they  must  hear  if  she  went 
to  the  law  for  redress?  Her  friends  in  the 
East  whose  good  wishes,  whose  respect,  she 
desired  ?  Mockers  there  would  be  among 
them,  she  was  certain;  there  were  mockers 
everywhere,  and  she  feared  their  taunts,  the 
shafts  of  sarcasm  that  would  be  launched  at 
her — aye,  that  would  strike  her — when  they 
heard  that  she  had  passed  a  night  in  a  lone 
cabin  with  a  strange  cowboy — had  been  mar- 
ried to  him ! 

A  month  had  passed  since  the  afternoon 
on  which  she  had  ridden  up  to  the  porch  of 
the  Double  R  ranchhouse  to  be  greeted  by 
Duncan  with  the  information  that  he  had 
that  morning  received  a  telegram  from  her 
father  announcing  her  coming.     It  had  been 


78    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

brought  from  Lazette  by  a  puncher  who  had 
gone  there  for  the  mail,  and  Duncan  was  at 
that  moment  preparing  to  drive  to  Lazette 
to  meet  her,  under  the  impression  that  she 
would  arrive  that  day.  There  had  been  a 
mistake,  of  course,  but  what  did  it  matter 
now?  The  damage  had  been  wrought  and 
she  closed  her  lips.  A  month  had  passed 
and  she  had  not  told — she  would  never  tell. 

Conversations  she  had  had  with  Duncan; 
he  seemed  a  gentleman,  living  at  the  Double 
R  ranchhouse  with  his  sister,  but  in  no  con- 
versation with  anyone  had  Sheila  even  men- 
tioned Dakota's  name,  fearing  that  some- 
thing in  her  manner  might  betray  her  secret. 
To  everyone  but  herself  the  picture  of  her 
adventure  that  night  on  the  trail  must  re- 
main invisible. 

She  looked  furtively  at  Duncan,  stretched 
out  beside  her  on  the  grass.  What  would  he 
say  if  he  knew?  He  would  not  be  pleased, 
she  was  certain,  for  during  the  month  that 
she  had  been  at  the  Double  R — riding  out 
almost  daily  with  him — he  had  fdrced  her 
to  see  that  he  had  taken  a  liking  to  her — 
more,  she  herself  had  observed  the  telltale 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT    79 

signs  of  something  deeper  than  mere  liking. 

She  had  not  encouraged  this,  of  course, 
for  she  was  not  certain  that  she  liked  Dun- 
can, though  he  had  treated  her  well — almost 
too  well,  in  fact,  for  she  had  at  times  felt  a 
certain  reluctance  in  accepting  his  little  at- 
tentions— such  personal  service  as  kept  him 
almost  constantly  at  her  side.  His  manner, 
too,  was  ingratiating;  he  smiled  too  much 
to  suit  her;  his  presumption  of  proprietor- 
ship over  her  irritated  her  not  a  little. 

As  she  sat  beside  him  on  the  grass  she 
found  herself  studying  him,  as  she  had  done 
many  times  when  he  had  not  been  conscious 
of  her  gaze. 

He  was  thirty-two, — he  had  told  her  so 
himself  in  a  burst  of  confidence — though  she 
believed  him  to  be  much  older.  The  sprink- 
ling of  gray  hair  at  his  temples  had  caused 
her  to  place  his  age  at  thirty-seven  or  eight. 
Besides,  there  were  the  lines  of  his  face — 
the  set  lines  of  character — indicating  estab- 
lished habits  of  thought  which  would  not 
show  so  deeply  in  a  younger  face.  His 
mouth,  she  thought,  was  a  trifle  weak,  yet 
not  exactly  weak  either,  but  full-lipped  and 


80     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

sensual,  with  little  curves  at  the  corners 
which,  she  was  sure,  indicated  either  vindic- 
tiveness  or  cruelty,  perhaps  both. 

Taken  altogether  his  was  not  a  face  to 
trust  fully;  its  owner  might  be  too  easily 
guided  by  selfish  considerations.  Duncan 
liked  to  talk  about  himself ;  he  had  been  talk- 
ing about  himself  all  the  time  that  Shelia 
had  sat  beside  him  reviewing  the  mental 
picture.  But  apparently  he  had  about  ex- 
hausted that  subject  now,  and  presently  he 
looked  up  at  her,  his  eyes  narrowing  quizz- 
ically. 

"  You  have  been  here  a  month  now,"  he 
said.     "  How  do  you  like  the  country?  " 

"  I  like  it,"  she  returned. 

She  was  looking  now  at  the  other  picture, 
watching  the  shimmer  of  the  sun  on  the  dis- 
tant mountain  peaks. 

"It  improves,"  he  said,  "  on  acquain- 
tance— like  the  people."  He  flashed  a  smile 
at  her,  showing  his  teeth. 

"I  haven't  seen  very  many  people,"  she 
returned,  not  looking  at  him,  but  determined 
to  ignore  the  personal  allusion,  to  which, 
plainly,  he  had  meant  to  guide  her. 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT    81 

"  But  those  that  you  have  seen? "  he  per- 
sisted. 

"  I  have  formed  no  opinions." 

She  had  formed  an  opinion,  though,  a 
conclusive  one — concerning  Dakota.  But 
she  had  no  idea  of  communicating  it  to  Dun- 
can. Until  now,  strangely  enough,  she  had 
had  no  curiosity  concerning  him.  Bitter 
hatred  and  resentment  had  been  so  active  in 
her  brain  that  the  latter  had  held  no  place 
for  curiosity.  Or  at  least,  if  it  had  been 
there,  it  had  been  a  subconscious  emotion, 
entirely  overshadowed  by  bitterness.  Of 
late,  though  her  resentment  toward  Dakota 
had  not  abated,  she  had  been  able  to  review 
the  incident  of  her  marriage  to  him  with 
more  composure,  and  therefore  a  growing 
curiosity  toward  the  man  seemed  perfectly 
justifiable.  Curiosity  moved  her  now  as  she 
smiled  deliberately  at  Duncan. 

"  I  have  seen  no  one  except  your  sister, 
a  few  cowboys,  and  yourself.  I  haven't  paid 
much  attention  to  the  cowboys,  I  like  your 
sister,  and  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  telling 
people  to  their  faces  what  I  think  of  them. 
The  country  does  not  appear  to  be  densely 


82     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

populated.     Are    there    no    other    ranches 
around  here — no  other  cattlemen?" 

"  The  Double  R  ranch  covers  an  area  of 
one  hundred  and  sixty  square  miles,"  said 
Duncan.  "  The  ranchhouse  is  right  near 
the  center  of  it.  For  about  twenty  miles  in 
every  direction  you  won't  find  anybody  but 
Double  R  men.  There  are  line-camps,  of 
course — dugouts  where  the  men  hang  out 
over  night  sometimes — but  that's  all.  To 
my  knowledge  there  are  only  two  men  with 
shacks  around  here,  and  they're  mostly  of 
no  account.  One  of  them  is  Doubler — Ben 
Doubler — who  hangs  out  near  Two  Forks, 
and  the  other  is  a  fellow  who  calls  himself 
Dakota,  who's  got  a  shack  about  twenty 
miles  down  the  Ute,  a  little  off  the  Lazette 
trail." 

"  They  are  ranchers,  I  suppose? " 

Sheila's  face  was  averted  so  that  Duncan 
might  not  see  the  interest  in  her  eyes,  or 
the  red  which  had  suddenly  come  into  her 
cheeks. 

"  Ranchers?  "  There  was  a  sneer  in  Dun- 
can's laugh.  "  Well,  you  might  call  them 
that.  But  they're  only  nesters.  They've 
got  a  few  head  of  cattle  and  a  brand.    It's 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT    83 

likely  they've  put  their  brands  on  quite  a 
few  of  the  Double  R  cattle." 

"  You  mean "  began  Sheila  in  a  low 

voice. 

"  I  mean  that  I  think  they're  rustlers — 
cattle  thieves! "  said  Duncan  venomously. 

The  flush  had  gone  from  Sheila's  cheeks; 
she  turned  a  pale  face  to  the  Double  R  man- 
ager. 

"  How  long  have  these  men  lived  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Double  R?  " 

"  Doubler  has  been  hanging  around  here 
for  seven  or  eight  years.  He  was  here  when 
I  came  and  mebbe  he's  been  here  longer. 
Dakota's  been  here  about  five  years.  He 
bought  his  brand — the  Star — from  another 
nester — Texas  Blanca." 

"  They've  been  stealing  the  Double  R 
cattle,  you  say? "  questioned  Sheila. 

"  That's  what  I  think." 

"  Why  don't  you  have  them  arrested? " 

Duncan  laughed  mockingly.  "  Arrested! 
That's  good.  You've  been  living  where 
there's  law.  But  there's  no  law  out  here; 
no  law  to  cover  cattle  stealing,  except  our 
own.  And  then  we've  got  to  have  the  goods. 
uThe  sheriff  won't  do  anything  when  cattle 


84     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

are  stolen,  but  he  acts  mighty  sudden  when 
a  man's  hung  for  stealing  cattle,  if  the  man 
ain't  caught  with  the  goods." 

"Caught  with  the  goods?" 

"  Caught  in  the  act  of  stealing.  If  we 
catch  a  man  with  the  goods  and  hang  him 
there  ain't  usually  anything  said." 

"  And  you  haven't  been  able  to  catch 
these  men,  Dakota  and  Doubler,  in  the  act 
of  stealing." 

"  They're  too  foxy." 

"  If  I  were  manager  of  this  ranch  and 
suspected  anyone  of  stealing  any  of  its  cat- 
tle, I  would  catch  them!  "  There  was  a  note 
of  angry  impatience  in  Sheila's  voice  which 
caused  Duncan  to  look  sharply  at  her.  He 
reddened,  suspecting  disparagement  of  his 
managerial  ability  in  the  speech. 

"  Mebbe,"  he  said,  with  an  attempt  at 
lightness.  "  But  as  a  general  thing  nosing 
out  a  rustler  is  a  pretty  ticklish  proposition. 
Nobody  goes  about  that  work  with  a  whole 
lot  of  enthusiasm." 

"  Why?  "  There  was  scorn  in  Sheila's 
voice,  scorn  in  her  uplifted  chin.  But  she 
did  not  look  at  Duncan. 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT    85 

"  Why?  "  he  repeated.  "  Well,  because 
it's  perfectly  natural  for  a  man  to  want  to 
live  as  long  as  he  can,  I  don't  like  them 
nesters — Dakota  especially — and  I'd  like 
mighty  well  to  get  something  on  them  But 
I  ain't  taking  any  chances  on  Dakota." 

"Why?"  Again  the  monosyllable  was 
pregnant  with  scorn. 

"  I  forgot  that  you  ain't  acquainted  out 
here,"  laughed  the  manager.  "  No  one  is 
taking  any  chances  with  Dakota — not  even 
the  sheriff.  There's  something  about  the 
cuss  which  seems  to  discourage  a  man  when 
he's  close  to  him — close  enough  to  do  any 
shooting.  I've  seen  Dakota  throw  down  on 
a  man  so  quick  that  it  would  make  you 
dizzy." 

"Throw  down?" 

"  Shoot  at  a  man.  There  was  a  gambler 
over  in  Lazette  thought  to  euchre  Dakota. 
A  gun-man  he  was,  from  Texas,  and — well, 
they  carried  the  gambler  out.  It  was  done 
so  sudden  that  nobody  saw  it." 

"Killed  him?"  There  was  repressed 
horror  in  Sheila's  voice. 

"  No,  he  wasn't  entirely  put  out  of  busi- 


86     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

ness.  Dakota  only  made  him  feel  cheap. 
Creased  him." 

"Creased  him? " 

"  Grazed  his  head  with  the  bullet.  Done 
it  intentionally,  they  say.  Told  folks  he 
didn't  have  any  desire  to  send  the  gambler 
over  the  divide;  just  wanted  to  show  him 
that  when  he  was  playin'  with  fire  he  ought 
to  be  careful.  There  ain't  no  telling  what 
Dakota'd  do  if  he  got  riled,  though." 

Sheila's  gaze  was  on  Duncan  fairly,  her 
eyes  alight  with  contempt.  "So  you  are 
all  afraid  of  him? "  she  said,  with  a  bitter- 
ness that  surprised  the  manager. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  it  would  amount  to 
about  that,  if  you  come  right  down  to  the 
truth,"  he  confessed,  reddening  a  little. 

"  You  are  afraid  of  him,  too  I  suppose?  *' 

"  I  reckon  it  ain't  just  that,"  he  parried, 
"  but  I  ain't  taking  any  foolish  risks." 

Sheila  rose  and  walked  to  her  pony,  which 
was  browsing  the  tops  of  some  mesquite 
near  by.  She  reached  the  animal,  mounted, 
and  then  turned  and  looked  at  Duncan 
scornfully. 

"  A  while  ago  you  asked  for  my  opinion 


THIS  PICTURE  AND  THAT    87 

of  the  people  of  this  country/'  she  said.  "  I 
am  going  to  express  that  opinion  now.  It 
is  that,  in  spite  of  his  unsavory  reputation, 
Dakota  appears  to  be  the  only  man  here!" 

She  took  up  the  reins  and  urged  her  pony 
away  from  the  butte  and  toward  the  level 
that  stretched  away  to  the  Double  R  build- 
ings in  the  distance.  For  an  instant  Dun- 
can stood  looking  after  her,  his  face  red  with 
embarrassment,  and  then  with  a  puzzled 
frown  he  mounted  and  followed  her. 

Later  he  came  up  with  her  at  the  Double 
R  corral  gate  and  resumed  the  conversation. 

"  Then  I  reckon  you  ain't  got  no  use  for 
rustlers? "  he  said. 

"Meaning  Dakota?"  she  questioned,  a 
smoldering  fire  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  reckon." 

"  I  wish,"  she  said,  facing  Duncan,  her 
eyes  flashing,  "that  you  would  kill  him!" 

"  Why "     said     Duncan,     changing 

color. 

But  Sheila  had  dismounted  and  was  walk- 
ing rapidly  toward  the  ranchhouse,  leaving 
Duncan  alone  with  his  unfinished  speech  and 
his  wonder. 


CHAPTER   V 

DAKOTA    EVENS    A    SCORE 

WITH  the  thermometer  at  one  hun- 
dred and  five  it  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  there  would  be  much 
movement  in  Lazette.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
there  was  little  movement  anywhere.  On 
the  plains,  which  began  at  the  edge  of  town, 
there  was  no  movement,  no  life  except 
when  a  lizard,  seeking  a  retreat  from  the 
blistering  sun,  removed  itself  to  a  deeper 
shade  under  the  leaves  of  the  sage-brush,  or 
a  prairie-dog,  popping  its  head  above  the 
surface  of  the  sand,  took  a  lightning  survey 
of  its  surroundings,  and  apparently  dissat- 
isfied with  the  outlook  whisked  back  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

There  was  no  wind,  no  motion;  the  little 
whirlwinds  of  dust  that  arose  settled  quickly 
down,  the  desultory  breezes  which  had 
caused  them  departing  as  mysteriously  as 

88 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    89 

they  had  come.  In  the  blighting  heat  the 
country  lay,  dead,  spreading  to  the  infinite 
horizons ;  in  the  sky  no  speck  floated  against 
the  dome  of  blue.  More  desolate  than  a 
derelict  on  the  calm  surface  of  the  trackless 
ocean  Lazette  lay,  its  huddled  buildings 
dingy  with  the  dust  of  a  continuing  dry  sea- 
son, squatting  in  their  dismal  lonesomeness 
in  the  shimmering,  blinding  sun. 

In  a  strip  of  shade  under  the  eaves  of 
the  station  sat  the  station  agent,  gazing 
drowisly  from  under  the  wide  brim  of  his 
hat  at  the  two  glistening  lines  of  steel  that 
stretched  into  the  interminable  distance. 
Some  cowponies,  hitched  to  rails  in  front 
of  the  saloons  and  the  stores,  stood  with 
drooping  heads,  tormented  by  myriad  flies; 
a  wagon  or  two,  minus  horses,  occupied  a 
space  in  front  of  a  blacksmith  shop. 

In  the  Red  Dog  saloon  some  punchers  on 
a  holiday  played  cards  at  various  tables, 
quietly  drinking.  Behind  the  rough  bar 
Pete  Moulin,  the  proprietor  stood,  talking 
to  his  bartender,  Blacky. 

"  So  that  jasper's  back  again,"  com- 
mented the  proprietor. 


90     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Which?"  The  bartender  followed  the 
proprietor's  gaze,  which  was  on  a  man 
seated  at  a  card  table,  his  profile  toward 
them,  playing  cards  with  several  other  men. 
The  bartender's  face  showed  perplexity. 

Moulin  laughed.  "  I  forgot  you  ain't 
been  here  that  long,"  he  said.  "  That  was 
before  your  time.  That  fellow  settin'  side- 
ways to  us  is  Texas  Blanca." 

"  What's  he  callin'  himself  <  Texas  '  for?  " 
queried  the  bartender.  "  He  looks  more  like 
a  greaser." 

"Breed,  I  reckon,"  offered  the  proprie- 
tor. "  Claims  to  have  punched  cows  in 
Texas  before  he  come  here." 

"  What's  he  allowin'  to  be  now?  " 

"  Nobody  knows.  Used  to  own  the  Star 
— Dakota's  brand.  Sold  out  to  Dakota  five 
years  ago.  Country  got  too  hot  for  him  an' 
he  had  to  pull  his  freight." 

"Rustler?" 

"  You've  said  something.  He's  been  sus- 
pected of  it.  But  nobody's  talkin'  very  loud 
about  it." 

"Not  safe?" 

"Not  safe.     He's  lightning  with  a  six. 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    91 

Got  his  nerve  to  come  back  here,  though." 

"How's  that?" 

"Ain't  you  heard  about  it?  I  thought 
everybody'd  heard  about  that  deal.  Blanca 
sold  Dakota  the  Star.  Then  he  pulled  his 
freight  immediate.  A  week  or  so  later  Dun- 
can, of  the  Double  R,  rides  up  to  Dakota's 
shack  with  a  bunch  of  Double  R  boys  an' 
accuses  Dakota  of  rustlin'  Double  R  cattle. 
Duncan  had  found  twenty  Double  R  calves 
runnin'  with  the  Star  cattle  which  had  been 
marked  secret.  Blanca  had  run  his  iron  on 
them  an'  sold  them  to  Dakota  for  Star  stock. 
Dakota  showed  Duncan  his  bill  of  sale,  all 
regular,  an'  of  course  Duncan  couldn't 
blame  him.  But  there  was  some  hard  words 
passed  between  Duncan  an'  Dakota,  an' 
Dakota  ain't  allowin'  they're  particular 
friends  since. 

"Dakota  had  to  give  up  the  calves,  sure 
enough,  an'  he  did.  But  sore!  Dakota  was 
sure  some  disturbed  in  his  mind.  He  didn't 
show  it  much,  bein'  one  of  them  quiet  kind, 
but  he  says  to  me  one  day  not  long  after 
Duncan  had  got  the  calves  back:  'I've 
been  stung,  Pete/  he  says,  soft  an'  even  like ; 


92     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

'I've  been  stung  proper,  by  that  damned 
oiler.  Not  that  I'm  carin'  for  the  money- 
end  of  it;  Duncan  findin'  them  calves  with 
my  stock  has  damaged  my  reputation/ 
Then  he  laffed — one  of  them  little  short 
laffs  which  he  gets  off  sometimes  when 
things  don't  just  suit  him — the  way  he's 
laffed  a  couple  of  times  when  someone's 
tried  to  run  a  cold  lead  proposition  in  on 
him.  He  fair  freezes  my  blood  when  he 
gets  it  off. 

"Well,  he  says  to  me:  'Mebbe  I'll  be 
runnin'  in  with  Blanca  one  of  these  days/ 
An'  that's  all  he  ever  says  about  it.  Likely 
he  expected  Blanca  to  come  back.  An'  sure 
enough  he  has.  Reckon  he  thinks  that 
mebbe  Dakota  didn't  get  wise  to  the  calf 
deal." 

"  In  his  place,"  said  Blacky,  eyeing 
Blanca  furtively,  "  I'd  be  makin'  some  in- 
quiries. Dakota  ain't  no  man  to  trifle 
with." 

"  Trifle!  "  Moulin's  voice  was  pregnant 
with  awed  admiration.  "  I  reckon  there 
ain't  no  one  who  knows  Dakota's  goin'  to 
trifle  with  him — he's  discouraged  that  long 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    93 

ago.    Square,  too,  square  as  they  make  'em." 

"The  Lord  knows  the  country  needs 
square  men,"  observed  Blacky. 

He  caught  a  sign  from  a  man  seated 
at  a  table  and  went  over  to  him  with  a  bottle 
and  a  glass.  While  Blacky  was  engaged  in 
this  task  the  door  opened  and  Dakota  came 
in. 

Moulin's  admiration  and  friendship  for 
Dakota  might  have  impelled  him  to  warn 
Dakota  of  the  presence  of  Blanca,  and  he 
did  hold  up  a  covert  finger,  but  Dakota  at 
that  moment  was  looking  in  another  direc- 
tion and  did  not  observe  the  signal. 

He  continued  to  approach  the  bar  and 
Blacky,  having  a  leisure  moment,  came  for- 
ward and  stood  ready  to  serve  him.  A  short 
nod  of  greeting  passed  between  the  three, 
and  Blacky  placed  a  bottle  on  the  bar  and 
reached  for  a  glass.  Dakota  made  a  nega- 
tive sign  with  his  head— short  and  resolute. 

"  I'm  in  for  supplies,"  he  laughed,  "  but 
not  that." 

"Not  drinkin'?"  queried  Moulin. 

"  I'm  pure  as  the  driven  snow,"  drawled 
Dakota. 


94     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"How  long  has  that  been  goin*  on?" 
Moulin's  grin  was  skeptical. 

"  A  month." 

Moulin  looked  searchingly  at  Dakota, 
saw  that  he  was  in  earnest,  and  suddenly- 
reached  a  hand  over  the  bar. 

"  Shake!  "  he  said.  "  I  hate  to  knock  my 
own  business,  an'  you've  been  a  pretty  good 
customer,  but  if  you  mean  it,  it's  the  most 
sensible  thing  you  ever  done.  Of  course  you 
didn't  hit  it  regular,  but  there's  been  times 
when  I've  thought  that  if  I  could  have  three 
or  four  customers  like  you  I'd  retire  in  a 
year  an'  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  countin' 
my  dust!  "  He  was  suddenly  serious,  catch- 
ing Dakota's  gaze  and  winking  expres- 
sively. 

"  Friend  of  yourn  here,"  he  said. 

Dakota  took  a  flashing  glance  at  the  men 
at  the  card  tables  and  Moulin  saw  his  lips 
straighten  and  harden.  But  in  the  next 
instant  he  was  smiling  gravely  aii  the  pro- 
prietor. 

"  Thanks,  Pete,"  he  said  quietly.  "  But 
you're  some  reckless  with  the  English  lan- 
guage when  you're  calling  him  my  friend. 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    95 

Maybe  he'll  be  proving  that  he  didn't  mean 
to  skin  me  on  that  deal." 

He  smiled  again  and  then  left  the  bar  and 
strode  toward  Blanca.  The  latter  contin- 
ued his  card  playing,  apparently  unaware 
of  Dakota's  approach,  but  at  the  sound  of 
his  former  victim's  voice  he  turned  and 
looked  up  slowly,  his  face  wearing  a  bland 
smile. 

It  was  plain  to  Moulin  that  Blanca  had 
known  all  along  of  Dakota's  presence  in  the 
saloon — -perhaps  he  had  seen  him  enter. 
The  other  card  players  ceased  playing  and 
leaned  back  in  their  chairs,  watching,  for 
some  of  them  knew  something  of  the  calf 
deal,  and  there  was  that  in  Dakota's  greet- 
ing to  Blanca  which  warned  them  of  im- 
pending trouble. 

"  Blanca,"  said  Dakota  quietly,  "  you  can 
pay  for  those  calves  now." 

It  pleased  Blanca  to  dissemble.  But  it 
was  plain  to  Moulin — as  it  must  have  been 
plain  to  everybody  who  watched  Blanca — 
that  a  shadow  crossed  his  face  at  Dakota's 
words.  Evidently  he  had  entertained  a  hope 
that  his  duplicity  had  not  been  discovered. 


96    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"Calves?"  he  said.  "What  calves,  my 
frien'?  "  He  dropped  his  cards  to  the  table 
and  turned  his  chair  around,  leaning  far 
back  in  it  and  hooking  his  right  thumb  in 
his  cartridge  belt,  just  above  the  holster 
of  his  pistol.  "  I  theenk  it  mus'  be  mis- 
tak'." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Dakota,  a  slow,  grimly 
humorous  smile  reaching  his  face,  "  it  was 
a  mistake.  You  made  it,  Blanca.  Duncan 
found  it  out.  Duncan  took  the  calves — they 
belonged  to  him.  You're  going  to  pay  for 
them." 

"  I  pay  for  heem?  "  The  bland  smile  on 
Blanca's  face  had  slowly  faded  with  the  real- 
ization that  his  victim  was  not  to  be  further 
misled  by  him.  In  place  of  the  smile  his 
face  now  wore  an  expression  of  sneering 
contempt,  and  his  black  eyes  had  taken  on 
a  watchful  glitter.  He  spoke  slowly:  "I 
pay  for  no  calves,  my  frien'." 

"  You'll  pay,"  said  Dakota,  an  ominously 
quiet  drawl  in  his  voice,  "  or " 

"Or  what?"  Blanca  showed  his  white 
teeth  in  a  tigerish  smirk. 

"  This  town  ain't  big  enough  for  both  of 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    97 

us,"  said  Dakota,  his  eyes  cold  and  alert  as 
they  watched  Blanca's  hand  at  his  cartridge 
belt.  "  One  of  us  will  leave  it  by  sundown. 
I  reckon  that's  all." 

He  deliberately  turned  his  back  on 
Blanca  and  walked  to  the  door,  stepping 
down  into  the  street.  Blanca  looked  after 
him,  sneering.  An  instant  later  Blanca 
turned  and  smiled  at  his  companions  at  the 
table. 

"  It  ain't  my  funeral,"  said  one  of  the 
card  players,  "but  if  I  was  in  your  place 
I'd  begin  to  think  that  me  stayin'  here  was 
crowdin'  the  population  of  this  town  by 
one." 

Blanca's  teeth  gleamed.  "  My  frien',"  he 
said  insinuatingly,  "it's  your  deal."  His 
smile  grew.  "  Thees  is  a  nize  country,"  he 
continued.  "  I  like  it  ver'  much.  I  come 
back  here  to  stay.  Dakota — hees  got  the 
Star  too  cheap."  He  tapped  his  gun  hol- 
ster significantly.  "  To-night  Dakota  hees 
go  somewhere  else.  To-morrow  who  takes 
the  Star?  You?"  He  pointed  to  each  of 
the  card  players  in  turn.  "  You? "  he  ques- 
tioned.  "  You  take  it? "   He  smiled  at  their 


98    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

negative  signs.  "  Well,  then,  Blanca  take 
it.  Peste!  Dakota  give  himself  till  sun- 
down!" 

•  •  •  •  . 

The  six-o'clock  was  an  hour  and  thirty 
minutes  late.  For  two  hours  Sheila  Lang- 
ford  had  been  on  the  station  platform  await- 
ing its  coming.  For  a  full  half  hour  she  had 
stood  at  one  corner  of  the  platform  strain- 
ing her  eyes  to  watch  a  thin  skein  of  smoke 
that  trailed  off  down  the  horizon,  but  which 
told  her  that  the  train  was  coming.  It 
crawled  slowly — like  a  huge  serpent — over 
the  wilderness  of  space,  growing  always 
larger,  steaming  its  way  through  the  golden 
sunshine  of  the  afternoon,  and  after  a  time, 
with  a  grinding  of  brakes  and  the  shrill  hiss 
of  escaping  air,  it  drew  alongside  the  station 
platform. 

A  brakeman  descended,  the  conductor 
strode  stiffly  to  the  telegrapher's  window, 
two  trunks  came  out  of  the  baggage  car, 
and  a  tall  man  of  fifty  alighted  and  was 
folded  into  Sheila's  welcoming  arms.  For  a 
moment  the  two  stood  thus,  while  the  pas- 
sengers smiled  sympathetically.     Then  the 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    99 

man  held  Sheila  off  at  arm's  length  and 
looked  searchingly  at  her, 

"  Crying?  "  he  said.  "  What  a  welcome!  " 

"Oh,  daddy!"  said  Sheila.  In  this  mo- 
ment she  was  very  near  to  telling  him  what 
had  happened  to  her  on  the  day  of  her 
arrival  at  Lazette,  but  she  felt  that  it  was 
impossible  with  him  looking  at  her;  she 
could  not  at  a  blow  cast  a  shadow  over  the 
joy  of  his  first  day  in  the  country  where, 
henceforth,  he  was  to  make  his  home.  And 
so  she  stood  sobbing  softly  on  his  shoulder 
while  he,  aware  of  his  inability  to  cope  with 
anything  so  mysterious  as  a  woman's  tears, 
caressed  her  gently  and  waited  patiently  for 
her  to  regain  her  composure. 

"  Then  nothing  happened  to  you  after 
all,"  he  laughed,  patting  her  cheeks. 
"  Nothing,  in  spite  of  my  croaking." 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered.  The  opportu- 
nity was  gone  now;  she  was  committed 
irrevocably  to  her  secret. 

"You  like  it  here?  Duncan  has  made 
himself  agreeable?" 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  country,  though  a  little 
lonesome  after — after  Albany.    I  miss  my 


100    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

friends,  of  course.  But  Duncan's  sister  has 
done  her  best,  and  I  have  been  able  to  get 
along." 

The  engine  bell  clanged  and  they  stood 
side  by  side  as  the  train  pulled  slowly  away 
from  the  platform.  Langford  solemnly 
waved  a  farewell  to  it. 

"  This  is  the  moment  for  which  I  have 
been  looking  for  months,"  he  said,  with 
what,  it  seemed  to  Sheila,  was  almost  a  sigh 
of  relief.  He  turned  to  her  with  a  smile. 
"  I  will  look  after  the  baggage,"  he  said, 
and  leaving  her  he  approached  the  station 
agent  and  together  they  examined  the 
trunks  which  had  come  out  of  the  baggage 
car. 

Sheila  watched  him  while  he  engaged  in 
this  task.  His  face  seemed  a  trifle  drawn; 
he  had  aged  much  during  the  month  that 
she  had  been  separated  from  him.  The  lines 
of  his  face  had  grown  deeper;  he  seemed, 
now  that  she  saw  him  at  a  distance,  to  be 
care-worn — tired.  She  had  heard  people 
call  him  a  hard  man;  she  knew  that  business 
associates  had  complained  of  what  they  were 
pleased  to  call  his  "  sharp  methods  " ;  it  had 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    101 

even  been  hinted  that  his  "  methods  "  were 
irregular. 

It  made  no  difference  to  her,  however, 
what  people  thought  of  him,  or  what  they 
said  of  him,  he  had  been  a  kind  and  indul-  | 
gent  parent  to  her  and  she  supposed  that  in 
business  it  was  everybody's  business  to  look 
sharply  after  their  own  interests.  For  there 
were  jealous  people  everywhere;  envy  stalks 
rampant  through  the  world ;  failure  cavils  at 
mediocrity,  mediocrity  sneers  at  genius. 
And  Sheila  had  always  considered  her 
father  a  genius,  and  the  carping  of  those 
over  whom  her  father  had  ridden  rough- 
shod had  always  sounded  in  her  ears  like 
tributes. 

As  quite  unconsciously  we  are  prone  to 
place  the  interests  of  self  above  considera- 
tions for  the  comfort  and  the  convenience 
of  others,  so  Sheila  had  grown  to  judge  her 
father  through  the  medium  of  his  treatment 
of  her.  Her  own  father — who  had  died  dur- 
ing her  infancy — could  not  have  treated  her 
better  than  had  Langford.  Since  her 
mother's  death  some  years  before,  Langford 
had  been  both  father  and  mother  to  her,  and 


102    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

her  affection  for  him  had  flourished  in  the 
sunshine  of  his.  No  matter  what  other 
people  thought,  she  was  satisfied  with  him. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  David  Dowd  Lang- 
ford  allowed  no  one — not  even  Sheila — to 
look  into  his  soul.  What  emotions  slum- 
bered beneath  the  mask  of  his  habitual  im- 
perturbability no  one  save  Langford  him- 
self knew.  During  all  his  days  he  had  suc- 
cessfully fought  against  betraying  his  emo- 
tions and  now,  at  the  age  of  fifty,  there  was 
nothing  of  his  character  revealed  in  his  face 
except  sternness.  If  addicted  to  sharp  prac- 
tice in  business  no  one  would  be  likely  to  sus- 
pect it,  not  even  his  victim.  Could  one  have 
looked  steadily  into  his  eyes  one  might  find 
there  a  certain  gleam  to  warn  one  of  trick- 
ery, only  one  would  not  be  able  to  look 
steadily  into  them,  for  the  reason  that  they 
would  not  allow  you.  They  were  shifty, 
crafty  eyes  that  took  one's  measure  when 
one  least  expected  them  to  do  so. 

Over  the  motive  which  had  moved  her 
father  to  retire  from  business  while  still  in 
his  prime  Sheila  did  not  speculate.  Nor  had 
she   speculated   when   he   had  bought   the 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    103 

Double  R  ranch  and  announced  his  inten- 
tion to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  on 
it.  She  supposed  that  he  had  grown  tired 
of  the  unceasing  bustle  and  activity  of  city 
life,  as  had  she,  and  longed  for  something 
different,  and  she  had  been  quite  as  eager 
as  he  to  take  up  her  residence  here.  This 
had  been  the  limit  of  her  conjecturing. 

He  had  told  her  when  she  left  Albany 
that  he  would  follow  her  in  a  month.  And 
therefore,  in  a  month  to  the  day,  knowing 
his  habit  of  punctuality,  Sheila  had  come 
to  Lazette  for  him,  having  been  driven  over 
from  the  Double  R  by  one  of  the  cowboys. 

She  saw  the  station  agent  now,  beckoning 
to  the  driver  of  the  wagon,  and  she  went 
over  to  the  edge  of  the  station  platform  and 
watched  while  the  trunks  were  tumbled  in- 
to the  wagon. 

The  driver  was  grumbling  good  natur- 
edly  to  Langford. 

"  That  darned  six-o'clock  train  is  always 
late,"  he  was  saying.  "  It's  a  quarter  to 
eight  now  an'  the  sun  is  goin'  down.  If 
that  train  had  been  on  time  we  could  have 
made  part  of  the  trip  in  the  daylight." 


104    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

The  day  had  indeed  gone.  Sheila  looked 
toward  the  mountains  and  saw  that  great 
long  shadows  were  lengthening  from  their 
bases;  the  lower  half  of  the  sun  had  sunk 
behind  a  distant  peak;  the  quiet  colors  of 
the  sunset  were  streaking  the  sky  and  glow- 
ing over  the  plains. 

The  trunks  were  in;  the  station  agent 
held  the  horses  by  the  bridles,  quieting  them; 
the  driver  took  up  the  reins ;  Sheila  was 
helped  to  the  seat  by  her  father,  he  jumped 
in  himself,  and  they  were  off  down  the 
street,  toward  a  dim  trail  that  led  up  a 
slope  that  began  at  the  edge  of  town  and 
melted  into  space. 

The  town  seemed  deserted.  Sheila  saw  a 
man  standing  near  the  front  door  of  a  sa- 
loon, his  hands  on  his  hips.  He  did  not 
appear  interested  in  either  the  wagon  or  its 
occupants;  his  gaze  roved  up  and  down  the 
street  and  he  nervously  fingered  his  car- 
tridge belt.  He  was  a  brown-skinned  man, 
almost  olive,  Sheila  thought  as  her  gaze 
rested  on  him,  attired  after  the  manner  of 
the  country,  with  leathern  chaps,  felt  hat, 
boots,  spurs,  neckerchief. 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE    105 

"Why,  it  is  sundown  already!''  Sheila 
heard  her  father  say.  "What  a  sudden 
change!  A  moment  ago  the  light  was  per- 
fect!" 

A  Subconscious  sense  only  permitted 
Sheila  to  hear  her  father's  voice,  for  her 
thoughts  and  eyes  were  just  then  riveted  on 
another  man  who  had  come  out  of  the  door 
of  another  saloon  a  little  way  down  the 
street.  She  recognized  the  man  as  Dakota 
and  exclaimed  sharply. 

She  felt  her  father  turn;  heard  the  driver 
declare,  "  It's  comin'  off,"  though  she  had 
not  the  slightest  idea  of  his  meaning.  Then 
she  realized  that  he  had  halted  the  horses; 
saw  that  he  had  turned  in  his  seat  and  was 
watching  something  to  the  rear  of  them 
intently. 

"  We're  out  of  range,"  she  heard  him  say, 
speaking  to  her  father. 

"  What's  wrong? "  This  was  her  father's 
voice. 

"  Dakota  an'  Blanca  are  havin*  a  run-in," 
announced  the  driver.  "  Dakota's  give 
Blanca  till  sundown  to  get  out  of  town.  It's 
sundown  now  an'  Blanca  ain't  pulled  his 


106    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

freight,  an'  it's  likely  that  hell  will  be  a-pop- 
pin'  sorta  sudden." 

Sheila  cowered  in  her  seat,  half  afraid  to 
look  at  Dakota — who  was  walking  slowly 
toward  the  man  who  still  stood  in  front  of 
the  saloon — though  in  spite  of  her  fears  and 
misgivings  the  fascination  of  the  scene  held 
her  gaze  steadily  on  the  chief  actors. 

Out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes  she  could 
see  that  far  down  the  street  men  were  con- 
gregated; they  stood  in  doorways,  at  con- 
venient corners,  their  eyes  directed  toward 
Dakota  and  the  other  man.  In  the  sepul- 
chral calm  which  had  fallen  there  came  to 
Sheila's  ears  sounds  that  in  another  time 
she  would  not  have  noticed.  Somewhere  a 
door  slammed;  there  came  to  her  ears  the 
barking  of  a  dog,  the  neigh  of  a  horse — 
sharply  the  sounds  smote  the  quiet  atmos- 
phere, they  seemed  odd  to  the  point  of  un- 
reality. 

However,  the  sounds  did  not  long  distract 
her  attention  from  the  chief  actors  in  the 
scene  which  was  being  worked  out  in  front 
of  her;  the  noises  died  away  and  she  gave 
her  entire  attention  to  the  men.     She  saw 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE  107 

Dakota  reach  a  point  about  thirty  feet  from 
the  man  in  front  of  the  saloon — Blanca.  As 
Dakota  continued  to  approach,  Sheila  ob- 
served an  evil  smile  flash  suddenly  to 
Blanca's  face;  saw  a  glint  of  metal  in  the 
faint  light;  heard  the  crash  of  his  revolver; 
shuddered  at  the  flame  spurt.  She  expected 
to  see  Dakota  fall — hoped  that  he  might. 
Instead,  she  saw  him  smile — in  much  the 
fashion  in  which  he  had  smiled  that  night 
in  the  cabin  when  he  had  threatened  to  shoot 
the  parson  if  she  did  not  consent  to  marry 
bim.  And  then  his  hand  dropped  swiftly  to 
the  butt  of  the  pistol  at  his  right  hip. 

Sheila's  eyes  closed;  she  swayed  and  felt 
her  father's  arm  come  out  and  grasp  her  to 
keep  her  from  falling.  But  she  was  not  go- 
ing to  fall ;  she  had  merely  closed  her  eyes  to 
blot  out  the  scene  which  she  could  not  turn 
from.  She  held  her  breath  in  an  agony  of 
suspense,  and  it  seemed  an  age  until  she 
heard  a  crashing  report — and  then  another. 
Then  silence. 

Unable  longer  to  resist  looking,  Sheila 
opened  her  eyes.  She  saw  Dakota  walk 
forward  and   stand   over   Blanca,   looking 


108    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

down  at  him,  his  pistol  still  in  hand.  Blanca 
was  face  down  in  the  dust  of  the  street,  and 
as  Dakota  stood  over  him  Sheila  saw  the 
half-breed's  body  move  convulsively  and 
then  become  still.  Dakota  sheathed  his 
weapon  and,  without  looking  toward  the 
wagon  in  which  Sheila  sat,  turned  and 
strode  unconcernedly  down  the  street.  A 
man  came  out  of  the  door  of  the  saloon  in 
front  of  which  Blanca's  body  lay,  looking 
down  at  it  curiously.  Other  men  were  run- 
ning toward  the  spot;  there  were  shouts, 
oaths. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Sheila  had 
seen  a  man  killed — murdered — and  there 
came  to  her  a  recollection  of  Dakota's  words 
that  night  in  the  cabin:  "Have  you  ever 
seen  a  man  die?"  She  had  surmised  from 
his  manner  that  night  that  he  would  not 
hesitate  to  kill  the  parson,  and  now  she  knew 
that  her  sacrifice  had  not  been  made  in  vain. 
A  sob  shook  her,  the  world  reeled,  blurred, 
and  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"Oh!"  she  said  in  a  strained,  hoarse 
voice.    "Oh!    The  brute!" 

"Hey!"     From   a   great    distance   the 


DAKOTA  EVENS  A  SCORE  109 

driver's  voice  seemed  to  come.  "Hey I 
What's  that?  Well,  mebbe.  But  I  reckon 
Blanca  won't  rustle  any  more  cattle. 
"  God! "  he  added  in  an  awed  voice;  "  both 
of  them  hit  him! " 

Blanca  was  dead  then,  there  could  be  no 
doubt  of  that.  Sheila  felt  herself  swaying 
and  tried  to  grasp  the  end  of  the  seat  to 
steady  herself.  She  heard  her  father's  voice 
raised  in  alarm,  felt  his  arm  come  out  again 
and  grasp  her,  and  then  darkness  settled 
around   her. 

When  she  recovered  consciousness  her 
father's  arms  were  still  around  her  and  the 
buckboard  was  in  motion.  Dusk  had  come ; 
above  her  countless  stars  flickered  in  the 
deep  blue  of  the  sky. 

"  I  reckon  she's  plum  shocked,"  she  heard 
the  driver  say. 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  returned  Langford, 
and  Sheila  felt  a  shiver  run  over  him. 
"  Great  guns !  "  Sheila  wondered  at  the 
tone  he  used.  "  That  man  is  a  marvel  with 
a  pistol!  Did  you  notice  how  cool  he  took 
it?" 

"Cool!"    The  driver  laughed.    "  If  you 


110    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

get  acquainted  with  Dakota  you'll  find  out 
that  he's  cool.  He's  an  iceberg,  that's  what 
he  is!" 

"  They'll  arrest  him,  I  suppose?"  queried 
Langford. 

"  Arrest  him !  What  for?  Didn't  he  give 
Blanca  his  chance?  That's  why  I'm  tellin' 
you  he's  cool! " 

It  was  past  two  o'clock  when  the  buck- 
board  pulled  up  at  the  Double  R  corral  gates 
and  Langford  helped  Shelia  down.  She  was 
still  pale  and  trembling  and  did  not  remain 
downstairs  to  witness  her  father's  introduc- 
tion to  Duncan's  sister,  but  went  immedi- 
ately to  her  room.  Sleep  was  far  from  her, 
however,  for  she  kept  dwelling  over  and 
over  on  the  odd  fortune  which  had  killed 
Blanca  and  allowed  Dakota  to  live,  when 
the  latter's  death  would  have  brought  to  an 
end  the  distasteful  relationship  which  his 
freakish  impulse  had  forced  upon  her. 

She  remembered  Dakota's  words  in  the 
cabin.  Was  Fate  indeed  running  this 
game — if  game  it  might  be  called? 


CHAPTER   VI 

KINDRED  SPIRITS 

LOOKING  rather  more  rugged  than 
when  he  had  arrived  at  the  station 
at  Lazette  two  weeks  before,  his  face 
tanned,  but  still  retaining  the  smooth,  sleek 
manner  which  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
the  East,  David  Dowd  Langford  sat  in  a 
big  rocking  chair  on  the  lower  gallery  of 
the  Double  R  ranchhouse,  mentally  apprais- 
ing Duncan,  who  was  seated  near  by,  his 
profile  toward  Langford. 

"  So  this  Ben  Doubler  has  been  a  thorn 
in  your  side?"  questioned  Langford  softly. 

"  That's  just  it,"  returned  Duncan,  with 
an  evil  smile.  "  He  has  been  and  still  is. 
And  now  I'm  willing  him  to  you.  I  don't 
know  when  I've  been  more  tickled  over  get- 
ting rid  of  a  man." 

*  Well,"  said  Langford,  leaning  farther 
back  in  his  chair  and  clasping  his  hands, 
111 


112    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

resting  his  chin  on  his  thumbs,  his  lips  curv- 
ing with  an  ironic  smile,  "  I  suppose  I  ought 
to  feel  extremely  grateful  to  you — espe- 
cially since  when  I  was  negotiating  the  pur- 
chase of  the  ranch  you  didn't  hint  of  a  nester 
being  on  the  property," 

"  I  didn't  sell  Doubler  to  you,"  said  Dun- 
can. 

Langford's  smile  was  shallow.  "But  I 
get  him  just  the  same,"  he  said,  "As  a 
usual  thing  it  is  pretty  hard  to  get  rid  of  a 
nester,  isn't  it?" 

"I  haven't  been  able  to  get  rid  of  this 
one,"  returned  Duncan.  "  He  don't  seem 
to  be  influenced  by  anything  I  say,  or  do. 
Some  obstinate." 

"Tried  everything?" 

"  Yes." 

"The  law?" 

Duncan  made  a  gesture  of  disgust.  "  The 
law! "  he  said.  "  What  for?  I  haven't  been 
such  a  fool.  He's  got  as  much  right  to  the 
open  range  as  I  have — as  you  will  have.  I 
bought  a  section,  and  he  took  up  a  quarter 
section.  The  only  difference  between  us  is 
that  I  own  mine — or  did  own  it  until  you 


KINDRED   SPIRITS         113 

bought  it — and  he  ain't  proved  on  his.  He 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  and  I'm  on 
this.  Or  rather,"  he  added  with  a  grin, 
"  he's  on  the  other  side  and  you  are  on  this. 
He's  got  the  best  grass  land  in  the  country 
— and  plenty  of  water." 

"  His  rights,  then,"  remarked  Langford 
slowly,  "  equal  yours — or  mine.  That  is," 
he  added,  "  he  makes  free  use  of  the  grass 
and  water." 

"  That's  so,"  agreed  Duncan. 

"  Which  reduces  the  profits  of  the  Double 
R,"  pursued  Langford. 

"  I  reckon  that's  right." 

"  And  you  knew  that  when  you  sold  me 
the  Double  R,"  continued  Langford,  his 
voice  smooth  and  silky. 

Duncan  flashed  a  grin  at  the  imperturb- 
able face  of  the  new  owner.  "  I  reckon  I 
wasn't  entirely  ignorant  of  it,"  he  said. 

"  That's  bad  business,"  remarked  Lang- 
ford in  a  detached  manner. 

"What  is?"  Duncan's  face  reddened 
slightly.  "  You  mean  that  it  was  bad  busi- 
ness for  nje  to  sell  when  I  knowed  Doubler 
owned  land  near  the  Double  R?"     There 


114    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

was  a  slight  sneer  in  his  voice  as  he  looked 
at  Langford.  "  You've  never  been  stung 
before,  eh?  Well,  there's  always  a  first 
time  for  everything,  and  I  reckon — accord- 
ing to  what  I've  heard — that  you  ain't  been 
exactly  no  Sunday  school  scholar  yourself.'' 

Langford's  eyes  were  narrowed  to  slits. 
"  I  meant  that  it  was  bad  business  to  allow 
Doubler's  presence  on  the  Two  Forks  to 
affect  the  profits  of  the  Double  R.  Perhaps 
I  have  been  stung — as  you  call  it — but  if  I 
have  been  I  am  not  complaining." 

Duncan's  eyes  glinted  with  satisfaction. 
He  had  expected  a  burst  of  anger  from  the 
new  owner  when  he  should  discover  that  the 
value  of  his  property  was  impaired  by  the 
presence  of  a  nester  near  it,  but  the  new 
owner  apparently  harbored  no  resentment 
over  this  unforeseen  obstacle. 

"  I'm  admitting,"  said  Duncan,  "  that 
Doubler  being  there  is  bad  business.  But 
how  are  you  going  to  prevent  him  staying 
there?"  " 

"Have  you  tried" — Langford  looked 
obliquely  at  Duncan,  drawling  significantly 
—"force?" 


KINDRED   SPIRITS  115 

"  I  have  tried  everything,  I  told  you." 

Duncan  gazed  at  Langford  with  a  new 
interest.  It  was  the  first  time  since  the  new 
owner  had  come  to  the  Double  R  that  he 
had  dropped  the  mask  of  sleek  smoothness 
behind  which  he  concealed  his  passions. 
Even  now  the  significance  was  more  in  his 
voice  than  in  his  words,  and  Duncan  began 
to  comprehend  that  Langford  was  deeper 
than  he  had  thought. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  appreciate  the 
situation,"  he  said,  smiling  craftily.  "  Some 
men  are  mighty  careful  not  to  do  anything 
to  hurt  anybody  else." 

Langford  favored  Duncan  with  a  steady 
gaze,  which  the  latter  returned,  and  both 
smiled. 

"  Business,"  presently  said  Langford 
with  a  quiet  significance  which  was  not  lost 
on  Duncan,  "  good  business,  demands  the 
application  of  certain  methods  which  are  not 
always  agreeable  to  the  opposition."  He 
took  another  sly  glance  at  Duncan.  "  There 
ought  to  be  a  good  many  ways  of  making 
it  plain  to  Doubler  that  he  isn't  wanted  in 
this  section  of  the  country,"  he  insinuated. 


116    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"I've  tried  to  make  some  of  the  ways 
plain,"  said  Duncan  with  a  cold  grin.  "  I 
got  to  the  end  of  my  string  and  hadn't  any 
more  things  to  try.  That's  why  I  decided 
to  sell.  I  wanted  to  get  away  where  I 
wouldn't  be  bothered.  But  I  reckon  that 
you'll  be  able  to  fix  up  something  for  him." 

During  the  two  weeks  that  Langford  had 
been  at  the  Double  R  Duncan  had  studied 
him  from  many  angles  and  this  exchange  of 
talk  had  convinced  him  that  he  had  not  erred 
in  his  estimate  of  the  new  owner's  character. 
As  he  had  hinted  to  Langford,  he  had  tried 
many  plans  to  rid  the  country  of  the  nester, 
and  he  remembered  a  time  when  Doubler 
had  seen  through  one  of  his  schemes  to 
fasten  the  crime  of  rustling  on  him  and  had 
called  him  to  account,  and  the  recollection 
of  what  had  happened  at  the  interview  be- 
tween them  was  not  pleasant.  He  had  not 
bothered  Doubler  since  that  time,  though 
there  had  lingered  in  his  heart  a  desire  for 
revenge.  Many  times,  on  some  pretext  or 
other,  he  had  tried  to  induce  his  men  to 
clash  with  Doubler,  but  without  success.  It 
had  appeared  to  him  that  his  men  suspected 


KINDRED   SPIRITS  117 

his  motives  and  deliberately  avoided  the 
nester. 

With  a  secret  satisfaction  he  had  watched 
Langford's  face  this  morning  when  he  had 
told  him  that  Doubler  had  long  been  sus- 
pected of  rustling;  that  the  men  of  the 
Double  R  had  never  been  able  to  catch  him 
in  the  act,  but  that  the  number  of  cattle 
missing  had  seemed  to  indicate  the  nester's 
guilt 

Doubter's  land  was  especially  desirable, 
'  he  had  told  Langford,  and  this  was  the 
truth.  It  was  a  quarter  section  lying  adja- 
cent to  good  water,  and  provided  the  best 
grass  in  the  vicinity.  Duncan  had  had 
trouble  with  Doubler  over  the  water  rights, 
too,  but  had  been  unsuccessful  in  ousting 
him  because  of  the  fact  that  since  Doubler 
controlled  the  land  he  also  controlled  the 
water  rights  of  the  river  adjoining  it.  The 
Two  Forks  was  the  only  spot  which  could  be 
used  by  thirsty  cattle  in  the  vicinity,  for  the 
river  at  other  points  was  bordered  with  cliffs 
and  hills  and  was  inaccessible.  And  Doub- 
ler would  not  allow  the  Double  R  cattle  to 
water  at  the  Two  Forks,  though  he  had 


118    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

issued  this  edict  after  his  trouble  with  the 
Double  R  owner.  Duncan,  however,  did  not 
explain  this  to  Langford. 

The  latter  looked  at  him  with  a  smooth 
smile.  "  It  is  plain  from  what  you  have 
been  telling  me,"  he  said,  "  that  there  is  no 
possibility  of  you  succeeding  in  reaching  a 
satisfactory  agreement  with  Doubler,  and 
therefore  I  expect  that  I  will  have  to  deal 
with  him  personally.  I  shall  ride  over  some 
day  and  have  a  talk  with  him." 

The  prospect  of  becoming  involved  with 
the  nester  gave  Langford  a  throb  of  joy. 
All  his  life  he  had  been  engaged  in  the  task 
of  overcoming  business  obstacles  and  he  had 
reached  the  conclusion  that  the  situation 
which  now  confronted  him  was  nothing 
more  or  less  than  business.  Of  course  it  was 
not  the  business  to  which  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed, but  it  offered  the  opportunity  for 
cold-blooded,  merciless  planning  for  per- 
sonal gain;  there  were  the  elements  of  profit 
and  loss;  it  would  give  him  an  opportunity 
to  apply  his  peculiar  genius,  to  grapple,  to 
battle,  and  finally  overthrow  the  opposing 
lorce. 


KINDRED   SPIRITS  119 

Though  he  had  allowed  Duncan  to  see 
nothing  of  the  emotions  that  rioted  within 
him  over  the  discovery  that  he  had  been  vic- 
timized by  the  latter — at  least  to  the  extent 
of  misrepresentation  in  the  matter  of  the 
nester — there  was  in  his  mind  a  feeling  of 
deep  resentment  against  the  former  owner; 
he  felt  that  he  could  no  longer  trust  him, 
but  for  the  sake  of  learning  all  the  details  of 
the  new  business  he  felt  that  he  would  have 
to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain.  He  had 
already  arranged  with  Duncan  to  remain  at 
the  Double  R  throughout  the  season,  but  he 
purposed  to  leave  him  out  of  any  dealings 
that  he  might  have  with  Doubler.  He 
smiled  as  he  looked  at  Duncan. 

"  I  like  this  country/'  he  said,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  and  drawing  a  deep  breath. 
"  I  was  rather  afraid  at  first  that  I  would 
find  it  dull  after  the  East.  But  this  situa- 
tion gives  promise  of  action." 

Duncan  was  watching  him  with  a  crafty 
smile.  "You  reckon  on  running  him  off, 
or "  He  leered  at  Langford  signifi- 
cantly. 

The  latter's  face  was  impassive,  his  smile 


120    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

dry.  "Eh?"  he  said,  abstractedly,  as 
though  his  thoughts  had  been  wandering 
from  the  subject.  "  Why,  I  really  haven't 
given  a  thought  to  the  method  by  which  I 
ought  to  deal  with  Doubler.  Perhaps,"  he 
added  with  a  genial  smile,  "  I  may  make  a 
friend  of  him." 

He  observed  Duncan's  scowl  and  his  smile 
grew. 


CHAPTER   VII 

BOGGED   DOWN 

EACH  day  during  the  two  weeks  that 
her  father  had  been  at  the  Double  R 
Sheila  had  accompanied  him  on  his 
rides  of  exploration.  She  had  grown  tired 
of  the  continued  companionship,  and  despite 
the  novelty  of  the  sight  she  had  become  de- 
cidedly wearied  of  looking  at  the  cowboys 
in  their  native  haunts.  Not  that  they  did 
not  appeal  to  her,  for  on  the  contrary  she 
had  found  them  picturesque  and  had  ad- 
mired their  manliness,  but  she  longed  to  ride 
out  alone  where  she  could  brood  over  her 
secret.  The  possession  of  it  had  taken  the 
flavor  out  of  the  joys  of  this  new  life,  had 
left  it  flat  and  filled  with  bitter  memories. 
She  had  detected  a  change  in  her  father — 
he  seemed  coarse,  domineering,  entirely  un- 
like his  usual  self.  She  attributed  this 
121 


122    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

change  in  him  to  the  country — it  was  hard 
and  rough,  and  of  course  it  was  to  be  ex- 
pected that  Langford— or  any  man,  for  that 
matter — taking  an  active  interest  in  ranch 
life,  must  reflect  the  spirit  of  the  country. 

She  had  developed  a  positive  dislike  for 
Duncan,  which  she  took  no  trouble  to  con- 
ceal. She  had  discovered  that  the  suspi- 
cions she  had  formed  of  his  character  dur- 
ing the  first  days  of  their  acquaintance  wTere 
quite  correct — he  was  selfish,  narrow,  and 
brutal.  He  had  accompanied  her  and  her 
father  on  all  their  trips  and  his  manner  to- 
ward her  had  grown  to  be  one  of  easy  famil- 
iarity. This  was  another  reason  why  she 
wanted  to  ride  alone. 

The  day  before  she  had  spoken  to  Lang- 
ford  concerning  the  continued  presence  of 
Duncan  on  their  rides,  and  he  had  laughed 
at  her,  assuring  her  that  Duncan  was  not  a 
"  bad  fellow,"  and  though  she  had  not  taken 
issue  with  him  on  this  point  she  had  decided 
that  hereafter,  in  self  protection,  she  would 
discontinue  her  rides  with  her  father  as  long 
as  he  was  accompanied  by  the  former  owner. 

Determined  to  carry  out  this  decision,  she 


BOGGED   DOWN  123 

was  this  morning  saddling  her  pony  at  the 
corral  gates  when  she  observed  Duncan 
standing  near,  watching  her. 

11  You  might  have  let  me  throw  that  sad- 
dle on,"  he  said. 

She  flushed,  angered  that  he  should  have 
been  watching  her  without  making  his  pres- 
ence known.  "  I  prefer  to  put  the  saddle  on 
myself,"  she  returned,  busying  herself  with 
it  after  taking  a  flashing  glance  at  him. 

He  laughed,  pulled  out  a  package  of  to- 
bacco and  some  paper,  and  proceeded  to  roll 
a  cigarette.  When  he  had  completed  it  he 
held  a  match  to  it  and  puffed  slowly. 

"  Cross  this  morning,"  he  taunted. 

There  was  no  reply,  though  Duncan 
might  have  been  warned  by  the  dark  red  in 
her  cheeks.  She  continued  to  work  with  the 
saddle,  lacing  the  latigo  strings  and  tighten- 
ing the  cinches. 

"  We're  riding  down  to  the  box  canyon 
on  the  other  side  of  the  basin  this  morning," 
said  Duncan.  "  WeVe  got  some  stray? 
penned  up  there.  But  your  dad  won't  be 
ready  for  half  an  hour  yet.  You're  in  some- 
thing of  a  hurry,  it  seems." 


124    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  You  are  going,  I  suppose?  "  questioned 
Sheila,  pulling  at  the  rear  cinch,  the  pony 
displaying  a  disinclination  to  allow  it  to  be 
buckled. 

"  I  reckon." 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Sheila,  straightening 
and  facing  him,  "  why  you  have  to  go  with 
father  everywhere." 

Duncan  flushed.  "  Your  father's  aiming 
to  learn  the  business,"  he  said.  "  I'm  show- 
ing him,  telling  him  what  I  know  about  it. 
There's  a  chance  that  I  won't  be  with  the 
Double  R  after  the  fall  round-up,  if  a  deal 
which  I  have  got  on  goes  through." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  have  a  corner  on  all 
the  knowledge  of  ranch  life,"  suggested 
Sheila  sarcastically. 

He  flushed  darkly,  but  did  not  answer. 

After  Sheila  had  completed  the  tighten- 
ing of  the  cinches  she  led  the  pony  beside  the 
corral  fence,  mounted,  and  without  looking 
at  Duncan  started  to  ride  away. 

"Wait!"  he  shouted,  and  she  drew  the 
pony  to  a  halt  and  sat  in  the  saddle,  looking 
down  at  him  with  a  contemptuous  gaze  as 
he  stood  in  front  of  her. 


BOGGED    DOWN  125 

"  I  thought  you  was  going  with  your 
father?''  he  said. 

'  You  are  mistaken."  She  could  not  re- 
press a  smile  over  the  expression  of  disap- 
pointment on  his  face.  But  without  giving 
him  any  further  satisfaction  she  urged  her 
pony  forward,  leaving  him  standing  beside 
the  corral  gates  watching  her  with  a  frown. 

She  smiled  many  times  while  riding  to- 
ward the  river,  thinking  of  his  discomfiture, 
reveling  in  the  thought  that  for  once  she  had 
shown  him  that  she  resented  the  attitude  of 
familiarity  which  he  had  adopted  toward 
her. 

She  sat  erect  in  the  saddle,  experiencing 
a  feeling  of  elation  which  brought  the  color 
into  her  face  and  brightened  her  eyes.  It 
was  the  first  time  since  her  arrival  at  the 
Double  R  that  she  had  been  able  to  ride  out 
alone,  and  it  was  also  the  first  time  that  she 
really  appreciated  the  vastness  and  beauty 
of  the  country.  For  the  trail  to  the  river, 
which  she  had  decided  she  would  follow,  led 
through  a  fertile  country  where  the  bunch 
grass  grew  long  and  green,  the  barren 
stretches   of   alkali   were   infrequent,    and 


126    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

where  the  low  wooded  hills  and  the  shallow 
gullies  seemed  to  hint  at  the  mystery.  Before 
long  the  depression  which  had  made  her  life 
miserable  had  fled  and  she  was  enjoying  her- 
self. 

When  she  reached  the  river  she  crossed  it 
at  a  shallow  and  urged  her  pony  up  a  slop- 
ing bank  and  out  upon  a  grass  plain  that 
spread  away  like  the  level  of  a  great,  green 
sea.  Once  into  the  plain,  though,  she  dis- 
covered that  its  promise  of  continuing  green 
was  a  mere  illusion,  for  the  grass  grew  here 
in  bunches,  the  same  as  it  grew  on  the 
Double  R  side  of  the  river.  Yet  though  she 
was  slightly  disappointed  she  found  many 
things  to  interest  her,  and  she  lingered  long 
over  the  odd  rock  formations  that  she  en- 
countered and  spent  much  time  peering 
down  into  gullies  and  exploring  sand  draws 
which  seemed  to  be  on  every  side. 

About  noon,  when  she  became  convinced 
that  she  had  seen  everything  worth  seeing 
in  that  section  of  the  country,  she  wheeled 
her  pony  and  headed  it  back  toward  the 
river.  She  reached  it  after  a  time  and  urged 
her  beast  along  its  banks,  searching  for  the 


BOGGED   DOWN  127 

shallow  which  she  had  crossed  some  time  be- 
fore. A  dim  trail  led  along  the  river  and 
she  felt  certain  that  if  she  followed  it  long 
enough  it  would  lead  her  to  the  crossing,  but 
after  riding  half  an  hour  and  encountering 
nothing  but  hills  and  rock  cliffs  she  began  to 
doubt.  But  she  rode  on  for  another  half 
hour  and  then,  slightly  disturbed  over  her 
inability  to  find  the  shallow,  she  halted  the 
pony  and  looked  about  her. 

The  country  was  strange  and  unfamiliar 
and  a  sudden  misgiving  assailed  her.  Had 
she  lost  her  idea  of  direction?  She  looked 
up  at  the  sun  and  saw  that  it  was  slightly 
past  the  zenith  on  its  downward  path.  She 
smiled.  Of  course  all  she  had  to  do  was  to 
follow  the  river  and  in  time  she  would  come 
in  sight  of  the  Double  R  buildings.  Certain 
that  she  had  missed  the  shallow  because  of 
her  interest  in  other  things,  she  urged  her 
pony  about  and  cantered  it  slowly  over  the 
back  trail.  A  little  later,  seeing  an  arroyo 
which  seemed  to  give  promise  of  leading  to 
the  shallow  she  sought,  she  descended  it  and 
found  that  it  led  to  a  flat  and  thence  to  the 
river.    The  crossing  seemed  unfamiliar,  and 


128    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

yet  she  supposed  that  one  crossing  would  do 
quite  as  well  as  another,  and  so  she  smiled 
and  continued  on  toward  it. 

There  was  a  fringe  of  shrubbery  at  the 
edge  of  what  appeared  to  have  once  been  a 
swamp,  though  now  it  was  dry  and  made 
fairly  good  footing  for  her  pony.  The  ani- 
mal acted  strangely,  however,  when  she  tried 
to  urge  it  through  the  fringing  shrubbery, 
and  she  was  compelled  to  use  her  quirt  vig- 
orously. 

Once  at  the  water's  edge  she  halted  the 
pony  and  viewed  the  crossing  with  satisfac- 
tion. She  decided  that  it  was  a  much  better 
crossing  than  the  one  she  had  encountered 
on  the  trip  out.  It  was  very  shallow,  not 
over  thirty  feet  wide,  she  estimated,  and 
through  the  clear  water  she  could  easily  see 
the  hard,  sandy  bottom.  It  puzzled  her 
slightly  to  observe  that  there  were  no  wagon 
tracks  or  hoof  prints  in  the  sand  anywhere 
around  her,  as  there  would  be  were  the  cross- 
ing used  ever  so  little.  It  seemed  to  be  an 
isolated  section  of  the  country  though,  and 
perhaps  the  cattlemen  used  the  crossing  lit- 
tle— there  was  even  a  chance  that  she  was 


BOGGED   DOWN  129 

the  first  to  discover  its  existence.  She  must 
remember  to  ask  someone  about  it  when  she 
returned  to  the  Double  R. 

She  urged  the  pony  gently  with  her 
booted  heel  and  voice,  but  the  little  animal 
would  not  budge.  Impatient  over  its  ob- 
stinacy, she  again  applied  the  quirt  vigor- 
ously. Stung  to  desperation  the  pony  stood 
erect  for  an  instant,  pawing  the  air  franti- 
cally with  its  fore  hoofs,  and  then,  as  the 
quirt  continued  to  lash  its  flanks,  it  lunged 
forward,  snorting  in  apparent  fright,  made 
two  or  three  eccentric  leaps,  splashing  water 
high  over  Sheila's  head,  and  then  came  to  a 
sudden  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  stream. 

Sheila  nibbled  at  her  lips  in  vexation. 
Again,  convinced  that  the  pony  was  merely 
exhibiting  obstinacy,  she  applied  the  quirt 
to  its  flanks.  The  animal  floundered  and 
struggled,  but  did  not  move  out  of  its  tracks. 

Evidently  something  had  gone  wrong. 
Sheila  peered  over  the  pony's  mane  into  the 
water,  which  was  still  clear  in  spite  of  the 
pony's  struggling,  and  sat  suddenly  erect, 
stifling  cry  of  amazement.  The  pony  was 
mired  fast!    Its  legs,  to  a  point  just  above 


130    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

the  knees,  had  disappeared  into  the  river 
bottom! 

As  she  straightened,  a  chilling  fear  clutch- 
ing at  her  heart,  she  felt  the  cold  water  of 
the  river  splashing  against  her  booted  legs. 
And  now  knowledge  came  to  her  in  a  sud- 
den, sickening  flood.  She  had  ridden  her 
pony  fairly  into  a  bed  of  quicksand ! 

For  some  minutes  she  sat  motionless  iii 
the  saddle,  stunned  and  nerveless.  She  saw 
now  why  there  were  no  tracks  or  hoof  prints 
leading  down  into  the  crossing.  She  remem- 
bered now  that  Duncan  had  warned  her  of 
the  presence  of  quicksand  in  the  river,  but 
the  chance  of  her  riding  into  any  of  it  had 
seemed  to  be  so  remote  that  she  had  paid 
very  little  attention  to  Duncan's  warning. 
Much  as  she  disliked  the  man  she  would  have 
given  much  to  have  him  close  at  hand  now. 
If  he  had  only  followed  her! 

She  was  surprised  at  her  coolness.  She 
realized  that  the  situation  was  precarious, 
for  though  she  had  never  before  experienced 
a  quicksand,  she  had  read  much  of  them  in 
books,  and  knew  that  the  pony  was  hope- 
lessly mired.    But  it  seemed  that  there  could 


BOGGED    DOWN  131 

be  no  immediate  danger,  for  the  river  bot- 
tom looked  smooth  and  hard;  it  was  gray- 
ish-black, and  she  was  so  certain  that  the 
footing  was  good  that  she  pulled  her  feet  out 
of  the  stirrups,  swung  around,  and  stepped 
down  into  the  water. 

She  had  stepped  lightly,  bearing  only  a 
little  of  her  weight  on  the  foot  while  holding 
to  the  saddle,  but  the  foot  sank  instantly 
into  the  sand  and  the  water  darkened  around 
it.  She  tried  again  in  another  spot,  putting 
a  little  more  weight  on  her  foot  this  time. 
She  went  in  almost  to  the  knee  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  she  had  to  exert  some  lit- 
tle strength  to  pull  the  foot  out,  there  was  so 
great  a  suction. 

With  the  discovery  that  she  was  really  in 
a  dangerous  predicament  came  a  mental 
panic  which  threatened  to  take  the  form  of 
hysteria.  She  held  tightly  to  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle,  shutting  her  eyes  on  the  deso- 
late world  around  her,  battling  against  the 
great  fear  that  rose  within  her  and  choked 
her.  When  she  opened  her  eyes  again  the 
world  was  reeling  and  objects  around  her 
were  strangely  blurred,  but  she  held  tightly 


132    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

to  the  saddle,  telling  herself  that  she  must 
retain  her  composure,  and  after  a  time  she 
regained  the  mastery  over  herself. 

With  the  return  of  her  mental  faculties 
she  began  to  give  some  thought  to  escape. 
But  escape  seemed  to  be  impossible.  Look- 
ing backward  toward  the  bank  she  had  left, 
she  saw  that  the  pony  must  have  come  fif- 
teen or  twenty  feet  in  the  two  or  three 
plunges  it  had  made.  She  found  herself 
wondering  how  it  could  have  succeeded  in 
coming  that  distance.  Behind  her  the  water 
had  become  perfectly  clear,  and  the  impres- 
sions left  by  the  pony's  hoofs  had  filled  up 
and  the  river  bottom  looked  as  smooth  and 
inviting  as  it  had  seemed  when  she  had  urged 
the  pony  into  it. 

In  front  of  her  was  a  stretch  of  water  of 
nearly  the  same  width  as  that  which  lay  be- 
hind her.  To  the  right  and  left  the  grayish- 
black  sand  spread  far,  but  only  a  short  dis- 
tance beyond  where  she  could  discern  the 
sand  there  were  rocks  that  stuck  above  the 
water  with  little  ripples  around  them. 

The  rocks  were  too  far  away  to  be  of 
any  assistance  to  her,  however,  and  her  heart 


BOGGED   DOWN  133 

sank  when  she  realized  that  her  only  hope  of 
escape  lay  directly  ahead. 

She  leaned  over  and  laid  her  head  against 
the  pony's  neck,  smoothing  and  patting  its 
shoulders.  The  animal  whinnied  appeal- 
ingly  and  she  stifled  a  sob  of  remorse  over 
her  action  in  forcing  it  into  the  treacherous 
sand,  for  it  had  sensed  the  danger  while 
obeying  her  blindly. 

How  long  she  lay  with  her  head  against 
the  pony's  neck  she  did  not  know,  but  when 
she  finally  sat  erect  again  she  found  that  the 
water  was  touching  the  hem  of  her  riding 
skirt  and  that  her  feet,  dangling  at  each  side 
of  the  pony,  were  deep  in  the  sand  of  the 
river  bottom.  With  a  cry  of  fright  she  drew 
them  out  and  crossed  them  before  her  on  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle.  With  the  movement 
the  pony  sank  several  inches,  it  seemed  to 
her;  she  saw  the  water  suddenly  flow  over 
its  back;  heard  it  neigh  loudly,  appealingly, 
with  a  note  of  anguish  and  terror  which 
seemed  almost  human,  and  feeling  a  sudden, 
responsive  emotion  of  horror  and  despair, 
Sheila  bowed  her  head  against  the  pony's 
mane  and  sobbed  softly. 


134    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

They  would  both  die,  she  knew — horribly. 
They  would  presently  sink  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  the  sand,  the  water  would  flow  over 
them  and  obliterate  all  traces  of  their  graves, 
and  no  one  would  ever  know  what  had  be- 
come of  them. 

Some  time  later — it  might  have  been  five 
minutes  or  an  hour — Sheila  could  not  have 
told — she  heard  the  pony  neigh  again,  and 
this  time  it  seemed  there  was  a  new  note  in 
the  sound— a  note  of  hope !  She  raised  her 
head  and  looked  up.  And  there  on  the  bank 
before  her,  uncoiling  his  rope  from  the  sad- 
dle horn  and  looking  very  white  and  grim, 
was  Dakota! 

Sheila  sat  motionless,  not  knowing 
whether  to  cry  or  laugh,  finally  compromis- 
ing with  the  appeal,  uttered  with  all  the 
composure  at  her  command: 

"  Won't  you  please  get  us  out  of  here?  " 

"  That's  what  I  am  aiming  to  do,"  he  said, 
and  never  did  a  voice  sound  sweeter  in  her 
ears ;  at  that  moment  she  almost  forgave  him 
for  the  great  crime  he  had  committed  against 
her. 

He  seemed  not  in  the  least  excited,  con- 


'WON'T  YOU  PLEASE  GET  US  OUT  OF  THIS?"  pa<fe  134 

The  Trail  to  Yesterday. 


BOGGED   DOWN  135 

tinuing  to  uncoil  his  rope  and  recoil  it  again 
into  larger  loops.  "  Hold  your  hands  over 
your  head !  "  came  his  command. 

She  did  as  she  was  bidden.  He  had  not 
dismounted  from  his  pony,  but  had  ridden 
up  to  the  very  edge  of  the  quicksand,  and  as 
she  raised  her  hands  she  saw  him  twirl  the 
rope  once,  watched  as  it  sailed  out,  settled 
down  around  her  waist,  and  was  drawn 
tight. 

There  was  now  a  grim  smile  on  his  face. 
"  You're  in  for  a  wetting,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
sorry — but  it  can't  be  helped.  Get  your  feet 
off  to  one  side  so  that  you  won't  get  mixed 
up  with  the  saddle.  And  keep  your  head 
above  the  water." 

"  Ye-s,"  she  answered  tremulously,  dread- 
ing the  ordeal,  dreading  still  more  the 
thought  of  her  appearance  when  she  would 
finally  reach  the  bank. 

His  pony  was  in  motion  instantly,  pulling 
strongly,  following  out  its  custom  of  drag- 
ging a  roped  steer,  and  Sheila  slipped  off  the 
saddle  and  into  the  water,  trying  to  keep  her 
feet  under  her.  But  she  overbalanced  and 
fell  with  a  splash,  and  in  this  manner  was 


136    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

dragged,  gasping,  strangling,  and  dripping 
wet,  to  the  bank. 

Dakota  was  off  his  pony  long  before  she 
had  reached  the  solid  ground  and  was  at 
her  side  before  she  had  cleared  the  water, 
helping  her  to  her  feet  and  loosening  the 
noose  about  her  waist. 

"  Don't,  please !  "  she  said  frigidly,  as  his 
hand  touched  her. 

"  Then  I  won't."  He  smiled  and  stepped 
back  while  she  fumbled  with  the  rope  and 
finally  threw  it  off.  "  What  made  you  try 
that  shallow?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  suppose  I  have  a  right  to  ride  where  I 
please?  "  He  had  saved  her  life,  of  course, 
and  she  was  very  grateful  to  him,  but  that 
was  no  reason  why  he  should  presume  to 
speak  familiarly  to  her.  She  really  believed 
— in  spite  of  the  obligation  under  which  he 
had  placed  her — that  she  hated  him  more 
than  ever. 

But  he  did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  disturbed 
over  her  manner.  On  the  contrary,  looking 
at  him  and  trying  her  best  to  be  scornful,  he 
seemed  to  be  laboring  heroically  to  stifle 
some  emotion — amusement,    she   decided — 


BOGGED   DOWN  137 

and  she  tried  to  freeze  him  with  an  icy  stare. 

"  Now,  you  don't  look  dignified,  for  a 
fact,"  he  grinned,  brazenly  allowing  his 
mirth  to  show  in  his  eyes  and  in  the  sudden, 
curved  lines  that  had  come  around  his  mouth. 
"  Still,  you  couldn't  expect  to  look  dignified, 
no  matter  how  hard  you  tried,  after  being 
dragged  through  the  water  like  that.  Now 
could  you?" 

"  It  isn't  the  first  time  that  I  have  amused 
you! "  she  said  with  angry  sarcasm. 

A  cloud  passed  over  his  face,  but  was  in- 
stantly superseded  by  a  smile. 

"  So  you  haven't  forgotten? "  he  said. 

She  did  not  deign  to  answer,  but  turned 
her  back  to  him  and  looked  at  her  partially 
submerged  pony. 

"  Want  to  try  it  again?  "  he  said  mock- 
ingly. 

She  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  him, 
her  eyes  flashing. 

"Will  you  please  stop  being  silly!"  she 
said  coldly.  "  If  you  were  human  you  would 
be  trying  to  get  my  pony  out  of  that  sand 
instead  of  standing  there  and  trying  to  be 
smart!" 


138    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Did  you  think  that  I  was  going  to  let 
him  drown?  "  His  smile  had  in  it  a  quality 
of  subtle  mockery  which  made  her  eyes  blaze 
with  anger.  Evidently  he  observed  it  for  he 
smiled  as  he  walked  to  his  pony,  coiling  his 
rope  and  hanging  it  from  the  pommel  of  the 
saddle.  "  I  certainly  am  not  going  to  let 
your  horse  drown,"  he  assured  her,  "  for  in 
this  country  horses  are  sometimes  more  val- 
uable than  people." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  save  the  pony 
first?  "  she  demanded  hotly, 

"  How  could  I,"  he  returned,  fixing  her 
with  an  amused  glance,  "  with  you  looking 
so  appealingly  at  me?  " 

She  turned  abruptly  and  left  him,  walk- 
ing to  a  flat  rock  and  seating  herself  upon 
it,  wringing  the  water  from  her  skirts,  try- 
ing to  get  her  hair  out  of  her  eyes,  feeling 
very  miserable,  and  wishing  devoutly  that 
Dakota  might  drown  himself — after  he 
had  succeeded  in  pulling  the  pony  from  the 
quicksand. 

But  Dakota  did  not  drown  himself.  Nor 
did  he  pull  the  pony  out  of  the  quicksand. 
She  watched  him  as  he  rode  to  the  water's 


BOGGED   DOWN  139! 

edge  and  looked  at  the  animal.  Her  heart 
sank  when  he  turned  and  looked  gravely  at 
her. 

"  I  reckon  your  pony's  done  for,  ma'am," 
he  said.  "  There  isn't  anything  of  him  above 
the  sand  but  his  head  and  a  little  of  his  neck. 
He's  too  far  gone,  ma'am.  In  half  an  hour 
he'll " 

Sheila  stood  up,  wet  and  excited.  "  Can't 
you  do  something?  "  she  pleaded.  "  Couldn't 
you  pull  him  out  with  your  lariat — like  you 
did  me?" 

There  was  a  grim  humor  in  his  smile. 
"  What  do  you  reckon  would  have  happened 
to  you  if  I  had  tried  to  pull  you  out  by  the 
neck?"  he  asked. 

"But  can't  you  do  something?"  she 
pleaded,  her  icy  attitude  toward  him  melting 
under  the  warmth  of  her  affection  and  sym- 
pathy for  the  unfortunate  pony.  "Please 
do  something !  "  she  begged. 

His  face  changed  expression  and  he 
tapped  one  of  his  holsters  significantly. 
"  There's  only  this  left,  I  reckon.  Pulling 
him  out  by  the  neck  would  break  it,  sure. 
And  it's  never  a  nice  thing  to  see — or  hear — 


140    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

a  horse  or  a  cow  sinking  in  quicksand.  I've 
seen  it  once  or  twice  and " 

Sheila  shuddered  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  for  his  words  had  set  her  im- 
agination to  working. 

"  Oh! "  she  said  and  became  silent. 

Dakota  stood  for  a  moment,  watching  her, 
his  face  grim  with  sympathy. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  he  said  finally.  "  I  don't 
like  to  shoot  him,  any  more  than  you  want 
to  see  it  done.  I  reckon,  though,  that  the 
pony  would  thank  me  for  doing  it  if  he  could 
have  anything  to  say  about  it."  He  walked 
over  close  to  her,  speaking  in  a  low  voice. 
"  You  can't  stay  here,  of  course.  You'll 
have  to  take  my  horse,  and  you'll  have  to  go 
right  now,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  around 
when  the  pony " 

"  Please  don't,"  she  said,  interrupting 
him.  He  relapsed  into  silence,  and  stood 
gravely  watching  her  as  she  resumed  her 
toilet. 

She  disliked  to  accept  his  offer  of  the 
pony,  but  there  seemed  to  be  no  other  way. 
She  certainly  could  not  walk  to  the  Double 
R  ranchhouse,  even  to   satisfy  a  desire  to 


BOGGED   DOWN  141 

show  him  that  she  would  not  allow  him  to 
place  her  under  any  obligation  to  him. 

"  I've  got  to  tell  you  one  thing,"  he  said 
presently,  standing  erect  and  looking  ear- 
nestly at  her.  "  If  Duncan  is  responsible 
for  your  safety  in  this  country  he  isn't  show- 
ing very  good  judgment  in  letting  you  run 
around  alone.  There  are  dangers  that  you 
know  nothing  about,  and  you  don't  know  a 
thing  about  the  country.  Someone  ought  to 
take  care  of  you." 

"  As  you  did,  for  example,"  she  retorted, 
filled  with  anger  over  his  present  solicitation 
for  her  welfare,  as  contrasted  to  his  treat- 
ment of  her  on  another  occasion. 

A  slow  red  filled  his  cheeks.  Evidently 
he  did  possess  some  self-respect,  after  all. 
Contrition,  too,  she  thought  she  could  detect 
in  his  manner  and  in  his  voice. 

"  But  I  didn't  hurt  you,  anyway,"  he  said, 
eyeing  her  steadily. 

"  Not  if  you  call  ruining  a  woman's  name 
not  '  hurting '  her,"  she  answered  bitterly. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  Miss  Sheila,"  he 
said  earnestly.  "  I  had  an  idea  that  night — 
and  still  have  it,  for  that  matter — that  I  was 


142    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

an  instrument —  Well,  I  had  an  idea,  that's 
all.  But  I  haven't  told  anybody  about  what 
happened — I  haven't  even  hinted  it  to  any- 
body. And  I  told  the  parson  to  get  out  of 
the  country,  so  he  wouldn't  do  any  gassing 
about  it.  And  I  haven't  been  over  to  Dry 
Bottom  to  have  the  marriage  recorded- — and 
I  am  not  going  to  go.  So  that  you  can  have 
it  set  aside  at  any  time." 

Yes,  she  could  have  the  marriage  an- 
nulled, she  knew  that.  But  the  contempla- 
tion of  her  release  from  the  tie  that  bound 
her  to  him  did  not  lessen  the  gravity  of  the 
offense  in  her  eyes.  She  told  herself  that  she 
hated  him  with  a  remorseless  passion  which 
would  never  cease  until  he  ceased  to  live. 
No  action  of  his  could  repair  the  damage  he 
had  done  to  her.    She  told  him  so,  plainly. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  so  blood-thirsty 
as  that,"  he  laughed  in  quiet  mockery. 
"  Maybe  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  you  if 
I  did  die — or  get  killed.  But  I'm  not  allow- 
ing that  I'm  ready  to  die  yet,  and  certainly 
am  not  going  to  let  anybody  kill  me  if  I  can 
prevent  it.  I  reckon  you're  not  thinking  of 
doing  the  killing  yourself?" 


BOGGED   DOWN  143 

"  If  I  told  my  father — "  she  began,  but 
hesitated  when  she  saw  his  lips  suddenly 
straighten  and  harden  and  his  eyes  light  with 
a  deep  contempt. 

"  So  you  haven't  told  your  father? "  he 
laughed,  "  I  was  sure  you  had  taken  him 
into  your  confidence  by  this  time.  But  I 
reckon  it's  a  mighty  good  thing  that  you 
didn't — for  your  father.  Like  as  not  if  you'd 
tell  him  he'd  get  some  riled  and  come  right 
over  to  see  me,  yearning  for  my  blood.  And 
then  I'd  have  to  shoot  him  up  some.  And 
that  would  sure  be  too  bad — you  loving  him 
as  you  do." 

11 1  suppose  you  would  shoot  him  like  you 
shot  that  poor  fellow  in  Lazette,"  she 
taunted,  bitterly. 

"  Like  I  did  that  poor  fellow  in  Lazette," 
he  said,  with  broad,  ironic  emphasis.  "  You 
saw  me  shoot  Blanca,  of  course,  for  you  were 
there.  But  you  don't  know  what  made  me 
shoot  him,  and  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you — 
it's  none  of  your  business." 

"Indeed!"  Her  voice  was  burdened 
with  contempt.  "  I  suppose  you  take  a  cer- 
tain pride  in  your  ability  to  murder  people." 


144    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

She  placed  a  venomous  accent  on  the  "  Mur- 
der." 

"  Lots  of  people  ought  to  be  murdered/* 
he  drawled,  using  the  accent  she  had  used. 

Her  contempt  of  him  grew.  "  Then  I 
presume  you  have  others  in  mind — whom 
you  will  shoot  when  the  mood  strikes  you? " 
she  said. 

"  Perhaps."  His  smile  was  mysterious 
and  mocking,  and  she  saw  in  his  eyes  the 
reckless  gleam  which  she  had  noted  that 
night  while  in  the  cabin  with  him.  She  shud- 
dered and  walked  to  the  pony — his  pony. 

"  If  you  have  quite  finished  I  believe  I 
will  be  going,"  she  said,  holding  her  chin 
high  and  averting  her  face.  "  I  will  have 
one  of  the  men  bring  your  horse  to  you." 

"  I  believe  I  have  quite  finished,"  he  re- 
turned, mimicking  her  cold,  precise  manner 
of  speech. 

She  disdainfully  refused  his  proffer  of  as- 
sistance and  mounted  the  pony.  He  stood 
watching  her  with  a  smile,  which  she  saw  by 
glancing  covertly  at  him  while  pretending 
to  arrange  the  stirrup  strap.  When  she 
started  to  ride  away  without  even  glancing 


BOGGED   DOWN  145 

at  him,  she  heard  his  voice,  with  its  absurd, 
hateful  drawl: 

"  And  she  didn't  even  thank  me,"  he  said 
with  mock  bitterness  and  disappointment. 

She  turned  and  made  a  grimace  at  him. 
He  bowed  and  smiled. 

"  You  are  entirely  welcome,"  she  said. 

He  was  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  quick- 
sand, watching  her,  when  she  reached  the 
long  rise  upon  which  she  had  sat  on  her  pony- 
on  a  day  some  weeks  before,  and  when  she 
turned  he  waved  a  hand  to  her.  A  little 
later  she  vanished  over  the  rise,  and  she  had 
not  ridden  very  far  when  she  heard  the  dull 
report  of  his  pistol.  She  shivered,  and  rode 
on. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME 

SHEILA  departed  from  the  quicksand 
crossing  nursing  her  wrath  against  the 
man  who  had  rescued  her,  feeling  bit- 
terly vindictive  against  him,  yet  aware  that 
the  Dakota  who  had  saved  her  life  was  not 
the  Dakota  whom  she  had  feared  during  her 
adventure  with  him  in  his  cabin  on  the  night 
of  her  arrival  in  the  country.  He  had 
changed,  and  though  she  assured  herself 
that  she  despised  him  more  than  ever,  she 
found  a  grim  amusement  in  the  recollection 
of  his  manner  immediately  following  the 
rescue,  and  in  a  review  of  the  verbal  battle, 
in  which  she  had  been  badly  worsted. 

His  glances  had  had  in  them  the  quality 
of  inward  mirth  and  satisfaction  which  is 
most  irritating,  and  behind  his  pretended  re- 
morse she  could  see  a  pleasure  over  her  di- 
lemma  which   made   her   yearn   to    inflict 

146 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME    147 

punishment  upon  him  that  would  cause  him 
to  ask  for  mercy.  His  demeanor  had  said 
plainly  that  if  she  wished  to  have  the  mar- 
riage set  aside  all  well  and  good — he  would 
offer  no  objection.  But  neither  would  he 
take  the  initiative.  Decidedly,  it  was  a  mat- 
ter in  which  she  should  consult  her  own  de- 
sires. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  she  rode 
up  to  the  Double  R  corral  gates  and  was 
met  there  by  her  father  and  Duncan.  Lang- 
ford  had  been  worried,  he  said,  and  was 
much  concerned  over  her  appearance.  In 
the  presence  of  Duncan  Sheila  told  him  the 
story  of  her  danger  and  subsequent  rescue 
by  Dakota  and  she  saw  his  eyes  narrow  with 
a  strange  light. 

"  Dakota !  "  he  said.  "  Isn't  that  the  chapi 
who  shot  that  half-breed  over  in  Lazette  the 
day  I  came?" 

To  Sheila's  nod  he  ejaculated:  "  He's  a 
trump! " 

"  He  is  a  brute! "  As  the  words  escaped 
her  lips — she  had  not  meant  to  utter  them — 
Sheila  caught  a  glint  in  Duncan's  eyes  which 
told  her  that  she  had  echoed  the  latter's  sen- 


148    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

timents,  and  she  felt  almost  like  retracting 
the  charge.  She  had  to  bite  her  lips  to  re- 
sist the  impulse. 

"  A  brute,  eh?  "  laughed  Langford.  "  It 
strikes  me  that  I  wouldn't  so  characterize  a 
man  who  had  saved  my  life.  The  chances 
are  that  after  saving  you  he  didn't  seem  de- 
lighted enough,  or  he  didn't  smile  to  suit 
you,  or " 

"  He  ain't  so  awful  much  of  a  man,"  re- 
marked Duncan  disparagingly. 

Langford  turned  and  looked  at  Duncan 
with  a  comprehending  smile.  "Evidently 
you  owe  Dakota  nothing,  my  dear  Duncan/* 
he  said. 

The  latter's  face  darkened,  and  with 
Sheila  listening  he  told  the  story  of  the  calf 
deal,  which  had  indirectly  brought  about  the 
death  of  Blanca. 

11  For  a  long  time  we  had  suspected  Texas 
Blanca  of  rustling,"  said  Duncan,  "  but  we 
couldn't  catch  him  with  the  goods.  Five 
|  years  ago,  after  the  spring  round-up,  I 
branded  a  bunch  of  calves  with  a  secret 
mark,  and  then  we  rode  sign  on  Blanca. 

"  We  had  him  then,  for  the  calves  disap- 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME    149 

peared  and  some  of  the  boys  found  some  of 
them  in  Blanca's  corral,  but  we  delayed, 
hoping  he  would  run  off  more,  and  while  we 
were  waiting  he  sold  out  to  Dakota.  We 
didn't  know  that  at  the  time;  didn't  find  it 
out  until  we  went  over  to  take  Blanca  and 
found  Dakota  living  in  his  cabin.  He  had 
a  bill  of  sale  from  Blanca  all  right,  showing 
that  he'd  bought  the  calves  from  him.  It 
looked  regular,  but  we  had  our  doubts,  and 
Dakota  and  me  came  pretty  near  having  a 
run-in.    If  the  boys  hadn't  interfered " 

He  hesitated  and  looked  at  Sheila,  and  as 
her  gaze  met  his  steadily  his  eyes  wavered 
and  a  slow  red  came  into  his  face,  for  the 
recollection  of  what  had  actually  occurred 
at  the  meeting  between  him  and  Dakota  was 
not  pleasant,  and  since  that  day  Duncan  had 
many  times  heard  the  word  "  Yellow " 
spoken  in  connection  with  his  name — which 
meant  that  he  lacked  courage. 

"  So  he  wasn't  a  rustler,  after  all?"  said 
Sheila  pleasantly.  For  some  reason  which 
she  could  not  entirely  explain,  she  suspected 
that  Duncan  had  left  many  things  out  of  his 
story  of  his  clash  with  Dakota. 


150    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Well,  no,"  admitted  Duncan  grudg- 
ingly. 

Sheila  was  surprised  at  the  satisfaction 
she  felt  over  this  admission.  Perhaps  Dun- 
can read  her  face  as  she  had  read  his,  for  he 
frowned. 

"  Him  and  Blanca  framed  up — making 
believe  that  Blanca  had  sold  him  the  Stair 
brand,"  he  said  venomously. 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  "  Sheila's  eyes  mel 
Duncan's  and  the  latter's  wavered.  She  was 
not  certain  which  gave  her  the  thrill  she  felt 
— her  defense  of  Dakota  or  Duncan's  bitten 
rage  over  the  exhibition  of  that  defense. 

"  He  doesn't  appear  to  me  to  be  the  sort 
of  man  who  would  steal  cows,"  she  said  with 
a  smile  which  made  Duncan's  teeth  show. 
"  Although,"  she  continued  significantly, 
"  it  does  seem  that  he  is  the  sort  of  man  I 
would  not  care  to  trifle  w:th — if  I  were  a 
man.  You  told  me  yourself,  if  you  remem- 
ber, that  you  were  not  taking  any  chances 
with  him.  And  now  you  accuse  him.  If  I 
were  you,"  she  warned,  "  I  would  be  more 
careful— I  would  keep  from  saying  things 
which  I  could  not  prove." 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME    151 

"Meaning  that  I'm  afraid  of  him,  I 
reckon  ?"  sneered  Duncan. 

Sheila  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  alight  with 
mischief.  That  day  on  the  edge  of  the  butte 
overlooking  the  river,  when  Duncan  had 
talked  about  Dakota,  she  had  detected  in  his 
manner  an  inclination  to  belittle  the  latter; 
several  times  since  then  she  had  heard  him 
speak  venomously  of  him,  and  she  had  sus- 
pected that  all  was  not  smooth  between 
them.  And  now  since  Duncan  had  related 
the  story  of  the  calf  incident  she  was  certain 
that  the  relations  between  the  two  men  were 
strained  to  the  point  of  open  rupture.  Dun- 
can had  bothered  her,  had  annoyed  her  with 
his  attentions,  had  adopted  toward  her  an 
air  of  easy  familiarity,  which  she  had  deeply 
resented,  and  she  yearned  to  humiliate  him 
deeply. 

"  Afraid? "  She  appeared  to  hesitate. 
"  Well,  no,"  she  said,  surveying  him  with  an 
appraising  eye  in  which  the  mischief  was 
partly  concealed,  "  I  do  not  believe  that  you 
are  afraid.  Perhaps  you  are  merely  careful 
where  he  is  concerned.  But  I  am  certain 
that  even  if  you  were   afraid   of   him   you 


152    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

would  not  refuse  to  take  his  pony  back.  I 
promised  to  send  it  back,  you  know." 

A  deep  red  suddenly  suffused  Duncan's 
face.  A  sharp,  savage  gleam  in  his  eyes — 
which  Sheila  met  with  a  disarming  smile — 
convinced  her  that  he  was  aware  of  her  ob- 
ject. She  saw  also  that  he  did  not  intend  to 
allow  her  to  force  him  to  perform  the  service. 

He  bowed  and  regarded  her  with  a  shal- 
low smile. 

"  I  will  have  one  of  the  boys  take  the  pony 
over  to  him  the  first  thing  in  the  morning," 
he  said. 

Sheila  smiled  sweetly.  "  Please  don't 
bother,"  she  said.  "  I  wouldn't  think  of  al- 
lowing one  of  the  men  to  take  the  pony  back. 
Perhaps  I  shall  decide  to  ride  over  that  way 
myself.  I  should  not  care  to  have  you  meet 
Dakota  if  you  are  afraid  of  him." 

Her  rippling  laugh  caused  the  red  in 
Duncan's  face  to  deepen,  but  she  gave  him 
no  time  to  reply,  for  directly  she  had  spoken 
she  turned  and  walked  toward  the  ranch- 
house.  Both  Duncan  and  Langford 
watched  her  until  she  had  vanished,  and  then 
Langford  turned  to  Duncan. 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME     153 

"What  on  earth  have  ~~ou  done  to  her? " 
he  questioned. 

But  Duncan  was  savagely  pulling  the  sad- 
dle from  Dakota's  pony  and  did  not  answer. 

Sheila  really  had  no  expectation  of  pre- 
vailing upon  Duncan  to  return  Dakota's 
horse,  and  had  she  anticipated  that  the  man- 
ager would  accept  her  challenge  she  would 
not  have  given  it,  for  after  thinking  over  the 
incident  of  her  rescue  she  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  she  had  not  treated  Dakota 
fairly,  and  by  personally  taking  his  horse  to 
him  she  would  have  an  opportunity  to  prof- 
fer her  tardy  thanks  for  his  service.  She 
did  not  revert  to  the  subject  of  the  animal's 
return  during  the  evening  meal,  however, 
nor  after  it  when  she  and  her  father  and 
Duncan  sat  on  the  gallery  of  the  ranchhouse 
enjoying  the  cool  of  the  night  breezes. 

After  breakfast  on  the  following  morning 
she  was  standing  near  the  windmill,  watch- 
ing the  long  arms  travel  lazily  in  their  wide 
circles,  when  she  saw  Duncan  riding  away 
from  the  ranchhouse,  leading  Dakota's 
pony.  She  started  toward  the  corral  gates, 
intending   to   call   to  him   to   return,    but 


154    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

thought  better  of  the  impulse  and  hailed  him 
tauntingly  instead: 

"  Please  tell  him  to  accept  my  thanks/' 
she  said,  and  Duncan  turned  his  head,  bowed 
mockingly,  and  continued  on  his  way. 

Half  an  hour  after  the  departure  of  Dun- 
can Sheila  pressed  a  loafing  puncher  into 
service  and  directed  him  to  rope  a  gentle 
pony  for  her.  After  the  puncher  had  se- 
cured a  suitable  appearing  animal  and  had 
placed  a  saddle  and  bridle  on  it,  she  com- 
pelled him  to  ride  it  several  times  around 
the  confines  of  the  pasture  to  make  certain 
that  it  would  not  "buck."  Then  she 
mounted  and  rode  up  the  river. 

Duncan  was  not  particularly  pleased  over 
his  errand,  and  many  times  while  he  rode  the 
trail  toward  Dakota's  cabin  his  lips  moved 
from  his  teeth  in  a  snarl.  Following  the  in- 
cident of  the  theft  of  the  calves  by  Blanca, 
Duncan  had  taken  pains  to  insinuate  pub- 
licly that  Dakota's  purchase  of  the  Star  from 
the  half-breed  had  been  a  clever  ruse  to  avert 
suspicion,  intimating  that  a  partnership  ex- 
isted between  Dakota  and  Blanca.  The 
shooting  of  Blanca  by  Dakota,  however,  had 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME    155 

exploded  this  charge,  and  until  now  Duncan 
had  been  very  careful  to  avoid  a  meeting 
with  the  man  whom  he  had  maligned. 

During  the  night  he  had  given  much 
thought  to  the  circumstance  which  was  send- 
ing him  to  meet  his  enemy.  He  had  a  sus- 
picion that  Sheila  had  purposely  taunted 
him  with  cowardice— that  in  all  probability 
Dakota  himself  had  suggested  the  plan  in 
order  to  force  a  meeting  with  him.  This 
thought  suggested  another.  Sheila's  de- 
fense of  Dakota  seemed  to  indicate  that  a 
certain  intimacy  existed  between  them.  He 
considered  this  carefully,  and  with  a  throb 
of  jealously  concluded  that  Dakota's  action 
in  saving  Sheila's  life  would  very  likely  pave 
the  way  for  a  closer  acquaintance. 

Certainly,  in  spite  of  Sheila's  remark 
about  Dakota  being  a  "  brute,"  she  had  be- 
trayed evidence  of  admiration  for  the  man. 
In  that  case  her  veiled  allusions  to  his  own 
fear  of  meeting  Dakota  were  very  likely 
founded  on  something  which  Dakota  had 
told  her,  and  certainly  anything  which  Da- 
kota might  have  said  about  him  would  not 
be     complimentary.     Therefore    his     rage 


156    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

against  both  Sheila  and  his  enemy  was  bitter 
when  he  finally  rode  up  to  the  door  of  the 
latter's  cabin. 

There  was  hope  in  his  heart  that  Dakota 
might  prove  to  be  absent,  and  when,  after 
calling  once  and  receiving  no  answer,  he  dis- 
mounted and  hitched  Dakota's  pony  to  a 
rail  of  the  corral  fence,  there  was  a  smile  of 
satisfaction  on  his  face. 

He  took  plenty  of  time  to  hitch  the  pony ; 
he  even  lingered  at  the  corral  bars,  leaning 
on  them  to  watch  several  steers  which  were 
inside  the  enclosure.  He  found  time,  too, 
in  spite  of  his  fear  of  his  enemy,  to  sneer 
over  the  evidences  of  prosperity  which  were 
on  every  hand.  He  was  congratulating 
himself  on  his  good  fortune  in  reaching  Da- 
kota's cabin  during  a  time  when  the  latter 
was  absent,  when  he  heard  a  slight  sound  be- 
hind him.  He  turned  rapidly,  to  see  Da- 
kota standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  cabin, 
watching  him  with  cold,  level  eyes,  one  of 
his  heavy  six-shooters  in  hand. 

Duncan's  face  went  slowly  pale.  He  did 
not  speak  at  once  and  when  he  did  he  was 
surprised  at  his  hoarseness. 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME    157 

"  I've  brought  your  cayuse  back,"  he  said 
finally. 

"  So  I  see,"  returned  Dakota.  His  eyes 
glinted  with  a  cold  humor,  though  they  were 
still  regarding  Duncan  with  an  alertness 
which  the  other  could  not  mistake. 

"  So  I  see,"  repeated  Dakota.  His  slow 
drawl  was  in  evidence  again.  "  I  don't  re- 
collect, though,  that  I  sent  word  to  have  you 
bring  him  back." 

"  I  wasn't  tickled  to  death  over  the  job," 
returned  Duncan. 

Now  that  his  first  surprise  was  over  and 
Dakota  had  betrayed  no  sign  of  resenting 
his  visit,  Duncan  felt  easier.  There  had 
been  a  slight  sneer  in  his  voice  when  he  an- 
swered. 

"  That  isn't  surprising,"  returned  Dakota. 
"  There  never  was  a  time  when  you  were 
tickled  a  heap  to  stick  your  nose  into  my 
affairs."     His  smile  froze  Duncan. 

"  I  ain't  looking  for  trouble,"  said  the  lat- 
ter, with  a  perfect  knowledge  of  Dakota's 
peculiar  expression. 

"  Then  why  did  you  come  over  here?  I 
reckon  there  wasn't  anyone  else  to  send  my 


158    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

horse  over  by?  "  said  Dakota,  his  voice  com* 
ing  with  a  truculent  snap. 

Duncan  flushed.  "  Sheila  Langford  sent 
me/'  he  admitted  reluctantly. 

Dakota's  eyes  lighted  with  incredulity. 
"  I  reckon  you're  a  liar,"  he  said  with  cold 
emphasis. 

Duncan's  gaze  went  to  the  pistol  in  Da- 
kota's hand  and  his  lips  curled.  He  knew 
that  he  was  perfectly  safe  so  long  as  he 
made  no  hostile  move,  for  in  spite  of  his 
derogatory  remarks  about  the  man  he  was 
aware  that  he  never  used  his  weapons  with- 
out provocation. 

Therefore  he  forced  a  smile.  "  You  ain't 
running  no  Blanca  deal  on  me,"  he  said. 
"  Calling  me  a  liar  ain't  going  to  get  no  rise 
out  of  me.  But  she  sent  me,  just  the  same. 
I  reckon,  liking  you  as  I  do,  that  I  ought 
to  be  glad  she  gave  me  the  chance  to  come 
over  and  see  you,  but  I  ain't.  We  was  gass- 
ing about  you  and  she  told  me  I  was  scared 
to  bring  your  cayuse  back."  He  laughed 
mirthlessly.  "  I  reckon  I've  proved  that  I 
ain't  any  scared." 

"No,"  said  Dakota  with  a  cold  grin, 
"  you  ain't  scared.     &You  know  that  there 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME    159 

won't  be  any  shooting  done  unless  you  get 
careless  with  that  gun  you  carry."  His 
eyes  were  filled  with  a  whimsical  humor,  but 
they  were  still  alert,  as  he  watched  Duncan's 
face  for  ;signs  of  insincerity.  He  saw  no 
such  signs  and  his  expression  became  mock- 
ing. "  So  she  sent  you  over  here? "  he  said, 
and  his  was  the  voice  of  one  enemy  enjoying 
some  subtle  advantage  over  another.  "  Why, 
I  reckon  you're  a  kind  of  handy  man  to  have 
around — sort  of  ladies'  man — running  er- 
rands and  such." 

Duncan's  face  bloated  with  anger,  but  he 
dared  not  show  open  resentment.  For  be- 
hind Dakota's  soft  voice  and  gentle,  over- 
polite  manner,  he  felt  the  deep  rancor  for 
whose  existence  he  alone  was  responsible. 
So,  trying  to  hold  his  passions  in  check,  he 
grinned  at  Dakota,  significantly,  insinuat- 
ingly, unable  finally  to  keep  the  bitter  ha- 
tred and  jealousy  out  of  his  voice.  For  in 
the  evilness  of  his  mind  he  had  drawn  many 
imaginary  pictures  of  what  had  occurred  be- 
tween Dakota  and  Sheila  immediately  after 
her  rescue  by  the  latter. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "  that  you 
take  a  heap  of  interest  in  Sheila." 


160    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  That's  part  of  your  business,  I  sup- 
pose? "    Dakota's  voice  was  suddenly  hard. 

Duncan  had  decided  to  steer  carefully 
away  from  any  trouble  with  Dakota ;  he  had 
even  decided  that  as  a  measure  for  his  own 
safety  he  must  say  nothing  which  would  be 
likely  to  arouse  Dakota's  anger,  but  the 
jealous  thoughts  in  his  mind  had  finally  got- 
ten the  better  of  prudence,  and  the  menace 
in  Dakota's  voice  angered  him. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said  with  a  sneer,  *  that  I 
ain't  as  much  interested  in  her  as  you  are." 

He  started  back,  his  lips  tightening  over 
his  teeth  in  a  snarl  of  alarm  and  fear,  for 
Dakota  had  stepped  down  from  the  door- 
way and  was  at  his  side,  his  eyes  narrowed 
with  cold  wrath. 

"  Meaning  what?  "  he  demanded  harshly, 
sharpty,  for  he  imagined  that  perhaps  Sheila 
had  told  of  her  marriage  to  him,  and  the 
thought  that  Duncan  should  have  been  se- 
lected by  her  to  share  the  secret  maddened 
him. 

"Meaning  what,  you  damned  coyote?" 
he  insisted,  stepping  closer  to  Duncan. 

"  Meaning  that  she  ain't  admiring  you 


DUNCAN    GRASPED    FOR    HIS    PISTOL,   BUT   THE    HAND    HOLDING   IT    WAS 

STAMPED   VIOLENTLY   INTO   THE    EARTH.  Page  161. 

The  Trail  to  Yesterday. 


SHEILA  FANS  A  FLAME    161 

for  nothing,"  flared  Duncan  incautiously, 
his  jealously  overcoming  his  better  judg- 
ment. "  Meaning  that  any  woman  which 
has  been  pulled  out  of  a  quicksand  like  you 
pulled  her  out  might  be  expected  to  favor 
you  with " 

The  sunlight  flashed  on  Dakota's  pistol 
as  it  leaped  from  his  right  hand  to  his  left 
and  was  holstered  with  a  jerk.  And  with 
the  same  motion  his  clenched  fist  was 
jammed  with  savage  force  against  Duncan's 
lips,  cutting  short  the  slanderous  words  and 
sending  him  in  a  heap  to  the  dust  of  the  cor- 
ral yard. 

With  a  cry  of  rage  Duncan  grasped  for 
his  pistol  and  drew  it  out,  but  the  hand  hold- 
ing it  was  stamped  violently  into  the  earth, 
the  arm  bent  and  twisted  until  the  fingers 
released  the  weapon.  And  then  Dakota 
stood  over  him,  looking  down  at  him  with 
narrowed,  chilling  eyes,  his  face  white  and 
hard,  his  anger  gone  as  quickly  as  it  Jiad 
come.  He  said  no  word  while  Duncan 
clambered  awkwardly  to  his  feet  and 
mounted  his  horse. 

"  I'm   telling   you   something,"   he   said 


162    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

quietly,  as  Duncan  lifted  the  reins  with  his 
uninjured  hand,  turning  his  horse  to  de- 
part. "  You  and  me  have  never  hitched 
very  well  and  there  isn't  any  chance  of  us 
ever  falling  on  each  other's  necks.  I  think 
what  I've  done  to  you  about  squares  us  for 
that  calf  deal.  I've  been  yearning  to  hand 
you  something  before  you  left  the  country, 
but  I  didn't  expect  you'd  give  me  the  chance 
in  just  this  way.  I'm  warning  you  that  the 
next  time  you  shove  your  coyote  nose  into 
my  business  I'll  muss  it  up  some.  That  ap- 
plies to  Miss  Sheila.  If  I  ever  hear  of  you 
getting  her  name  on  your  dirty  tongue  again 
I'll  tear  you  apart.  I  reckon  that's  all." 
He  drew  his  pistol  and  balanced  it  in  his 
right  hand.  "  It  makes  me  feel  some  reck- 
less to  be  talking  to  you,"  he  added,  a  glint 
of  intolerance  in  his  eyes.  "You'd  better 
travel  before  I  change  my  mind. 

"  You  don't  need  to  mention  this  to  Miss 
Sheila,"  he  said  mockingly,  as  Duncan  urged 
his  horse  away  from  the  corral  gate;  "  just 
let  her  go  on — thinking  you're  a  man." 


CHAPTER  IX 

STRICTLY  BUSINESS 

FOR  two  or  three  quiet  weeks  Sheila 
did  not  see  much  of  Duncan,  and  her 
father  bothered  her  very  little.  Sev- 
eral nights  on  the  gallery  of  the  ranchhouse 
she  had  seen  the  two  men  sitting  very  close 
together,  and  on  one  or  two  occasions  she 
had  overheard  scraps  of  conversation  car- 
ried on  between  them  in  which  Doubler's 
name  was  mentioned. 

She  remembered  Doubter  as  one  of  the 
nesters  whom  Duncan  had  mentioned  that 
day  on  the  butte  overlooking  the  river,  and 
though  her  father  and  Duncan  had  a  perfect 
right  to  discuss  him,  it  seemed  to  Sheila 
that  there  had  been  a  serious  note  in  their 
voices  when  they  had  mentioned  his  name. 

She  had  become  acquainted  with  Doubter. 
Since  discontinuing  her  rides  with  her  father 
and  Duncan  she  had  gone  out  every  day 

163 


164    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

alone,  though  she  was  careful  to  avoid  any 
crossing  in  the  river  which  looked  the  least 
suspicious.  Such  crossings  as  she  could 
ford  were  few,  and  for  that  reason  she  was 
forced  to  ride  most  of  the  time  to  the  Two 
Forks,  where  there  was  an  excellent  shal- 
low, with  long  slopes  sweeping  up  to  the 
plains  on  both  sides. 

The  first  time  that  she  crossed  at  the  Two 
Forks  she  had  come  upon  a  small  adobe 
cabin  situated  a  few  hundred  yards  back 
from  the  water's  edge. 

Sheila  would  have  fled  from  the  vicinity, 
for  there  was  still  fresh  in  her  mind  a  recol- 
lection of  another  cabin  in  which  she  had 
once  passed  many  fearsome  hours,  but  while 
she  hesitated,  on  the  verge  of  flight,  Doub- 
ler  came  to  the  door,  and  when  she  saw  that 
he  was  an  old  man  with  a  kindly  face,  much 
of  her  perturbation  vanished,  and  she  re- 
mained to  talk. 

Doubler  was  hospitable  and  solicitous  and 
supplied  her  with  some  soda  biscuit  and  fresh 
beef  and  a  tin  cup  full  of  delicious  coffee. 
She  refused  to  enter  the  cabin,  and  so  he 
brought  the  food  out  to  her  and  sat  on  the 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       165 

step  beside  her  while  she  ate,  betraying  much 
interest  in  her. 

Doubler  asked  no  questions  regarding  her 
identity,  and  Sheila  marveled  much  over 
this.  But  when  she  prepared  to  depart  she 
understood  why  he  had  betrayed  no  curi- 
osity concerning  her. 

"I  reckon  you're  that  Langford  girl?" 
he  said. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Sheila,  wondering.  "  I 
am  Sheila  Langford.  But  who  told  you? 
I  was  not  aware  that  anyone  around  here 
knew  me — except  the  people  at  the  Double 
R." 

"  Dakota  told  me." 

"  Oh !  "  A  chill  came  into  her  voice  which 
instantly  attracted  Doubler's  attention.  He 
looked  at  her  with  an  odd  smile. 

"You  know  Dakota?" 

"  I  have  met  him." 

"You  don't  like  him,  I  reckon?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  now,"  commented  Doubler,  "  I 
reckon  I've  got  things  mixed.  But  from 
Dakota's  talk  I  took  it  that  you  an'  him  was 
pretty  thick." 


166    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  His  talk?"  Sheila  remembered  Da- 
kota's statement  that  he  had  told  no  one  of 
their  relations.  So  he  had  been  talking,  af- 
ter all!  She  was  not  surprised,  but  she  was 
undeniably  angry  and  embarrassed  to  think 
that  perhaps  all  the  time  she  had  been  talk- 
ing to  Doubler  he  might  have  been  apprais- 
ing her  on  the  basis  of  her  adventure  with 
Dakota. 

"What  has  he  been  saying? "  she  de- 
manded coldly, 

"  Nothing,  ma'am.  That  is,  nothin' 
which  any  man  wouldn't  say  about  you,  once 
he'd  seen  you  an'  talked  some  to  you." 
Doubler  surveyed  her  with  sparkling,  ap- 
preciative eyes. 

"  As  a  rule  it  don't  pay  to  go  to  gossipin' 
with  anyone — least  of  all  with  a  woman. 
But  I  reckon  I  can  tell  you  what  he  said, 
ma'am,  without  you  gettin'  awful  mad.  He 
didn't  say  nothin'  except  that  he'd  taken  an 
awful  shine  to  you.  An'  he'd  likely  make 
things  mighty  unpleasant  for  me  if  he'd  find 
that  I'd  told  you  that." 

"  Shine?"  There  was  a  world  of  scorn- 
ful wonder  in  Sheila's  voice.     "  Would  you 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       167 

mind  telling  pie  what  c  taking  a  shine  '  to 
anyone  means? " 

"  Why,  no,  I  reckon  I  don't  mind,  ma'am, 
seein'  that  it's  you.  *  Takin'  a  shine  '  to  you 
means  that  he's  some  stuck  on  you — likes 
you,  that  is.  An'  I  reckon  you  can't  blame 
him  much  for  doin'  that." 

Sheila  did  not  answer,  though  a  sudden 
flood  of  red  to  her  face  made  the  use  of  mere 
words  entirely  unnecessary  so  far  as  Doub- 
ler  was  concerned,  for  he  smiled  wisely. 

Sheila  fled  down  the  trail  toward  the  cross- 
ing without  a  parting  word  to  Doubler, 
leaving  him  standing  at  the  door  squinting 
with  amusement  at  her.  But  on  the  mor- 
row she  had  returned,  determined  to  dis- 
cover something  of  Dakota,  to  learn  some- 
thing of  his  history  since  coming  into  the 
country,  or  at  the  least  to  see  if  she  could 
not  induce  Doubler  to  disclose  his  real  name. 

She  was  unsuccessful.  Dakota  had  never 
taken  Doubler  into  his  confidence,  and  the 
information  that  she  succeeded  in  worming 
from  the  nester  was  not  more  than  he  had 
already  volunteered,  or  than  Duncan  had 
given  her  that  day  when  they  were  seated 


168    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

on  the  edge  of  the  butte  overlopking  the 
river. 

She  was  convinced  that  Doubler  had  told 
her  all  he  knew,  and  she  wondered  at  the 
custom  which  permitted  friendship  on  the 
basis  of  such  meager  knowledge. 

She  quickly  grew  to  like  Doubler.  He 
showed  a  fatherly  interest  in  her  and  al- 
ways greeted  her  with  a  smile  when  during 
her  rides  she  came  to  his  cabin,  or  when  she 
met  him,  as  she  did  frequently,  on  the  open 
range.  His  manner  toward  her  was  always 
cordial,  and  he  seemed  not  to  have  a  care. 
One  morning,  however,  she  rode  up  to  the 
door  of  the  cabin  and  Doubler's  face  was 
serious.  He  stood  quietly  in  the  doorway, 
watching  her  as  she  sat  on  her  pony,  not 
offering  to  assist  her  down  as  he  usually  did, 
and  she  knew  instantly  that  something  had 
happened  to  disturb  his  peace  of  mind.  He 
did  not  invite  her  into  the  cabin. 

"Ma'am,"  he  said,  and  Sheila  detected 
regret  in  his  voice,  "  I'm  a  heap  sorry,  but 
of  course  you  won't  be  comin'  here  any 


more." 


I  don't  see  why!"  returned  Sheila  in 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       169 

surprise.  "I  like  to  come  here.  But,  of 
course,  if  you  don't  want  me " 

"  It  ain't  that,"  he  interrupted  quickly. 
"  I  thought  you  knowed.  But  you  don't,  of 
course,  or  you  wouldn't  have  come  just  now. 
Your  dad  an'  Duncan  was  over  to  see  me 
yesterday." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  returned  Sheila. 
"  But  I  can't  see  why  a  visit  from  father 
should " 

"  He's  wantin'  me  to  pull  my  freight  out 
of  the  country,"  said  Doubler.  "  An'  of 
course  I  ain't  doin'  it.  Therefore  I'm  sev- 
eral' diplomatic  relations  with  your  family." 

"  I  don't  see  why "  began  Sheila,  puz- 
zled to  understand  why  a  mere  visit  on  her 
father's  part  should  have  the  result  Doubler 
had  announced. 

"  Of  course  you  don't,"  Doubler  told  her. 
"  You're  a  woman  an*  don't  understand 
such  things.  But  in  this  country  when  a 
little  owner  has  got  some  land  which  a  big 
owner  wants — an'  can't  buy — there's  likely 
to  be  trouble.  I  ain't  proved  on  my  land 
yet,  an'  if  your  dad  can  run  me  off  he'll  be 
pretty  apt  to  grab  it  somehow  or  other.  But 


170    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

he  ain't  runnin'  me  off  an'  so  there's  a  heap 
of  trouble  comin'.  An'  of  course  while 
there's  trouble  you  won't  be  comin'  here  any 
more  after  this.  Likely  your  dad  wouldn't 
have  it.    I'm  sorry,  too.    I  like  you  a  lot." 

"  I  don't  see  why  father  should  want  your 
land,"  Sheila  told  him  gravely,  much  dis- 
turbed at  this  unexpected  development. 
"  There  is  plenty  of  land  here."  She  swept 
a  hand  toward  the  plains. 

"  There  ain't  enough  for  some  people," 
grimly  laughed  Doubler.  "  Some  people  is 
hawgs — askin'  your  pardon,  ma'am.  I 
wasn't  expectin'  your  father  to  be  like  that, 
after  seein'  you.  I  was  hopin'  that  we'd  be 
able  to  get  along.  I've  had  some  trouble 
with  Duncan — not  very  long  ago.  Once  I 
had  to  speak  pretty  plain  to  him.  I  expect 
he's  been  fillin'  your  dad  up." 

"  I'll  see  father  about  it."  Sheila's  face 
was  red  with  a  pained  embarrassment.  "I 
am  sure  that  father  will  not  make  any 
trouble  for  you — he  isn't  that  kind  of  man." 

"  He's  that  kind  of  a  man,  sure  enough," 
said  Doubler  gravely.  "  I  reckon  I've  got 
him  sized  up  right.    He  ain't  in  no  way  like 


STRICTLY  BUSINESS       171 

you,  ma'am.    If  you  hadn't  told  me  I  reckon 
I  wouldn't  have  knowed  he  is  your  father." 

"  He  is  my  stepfather,"  admitted  Sheila. 

"  I  knowed  it !  "  declared  Doubler.  "  I'm 
too  old  to  be  fooled  by  what  I  see  in  a  man's 
face — or  in  a  woman's  face  either.  Don't 
you  go  to  say  anything  about  this  business 
to  him.  He's  bound  to  try  to  run  me  off. 
He  done  said  so.  I  don't  know  when  I  ever 
heard  a  man  talk  any  meaner  than  he  did. 
Said  that  if  I  didn't  sell  he'd  make  things 
mighty  unpleasant  for  me.  An'  so  I  reckon 
there's  goin'  to  be  some  fun." 

Sheila  did  not  remain  long  at  Doubler's 
cabin,  for  her  mind  was  in  a  riot  of  rage  and 
resentment  against  her  father  for  his  atti- 
tude toward  Doubler,  and  she  cut  short  her 
ride  in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  have  a  talk 
with  him  before  he  left  the  ranchhouse.  But 
when  she  returned  she  was  told  by  Duncan's 
sister  that  Langford  had  departed  some 
hours  before — alone.  He  had  not  men- 
tioned his  destination. 

.  .  •  •  • 

Ben  Doubler  had  omitted  an  important 
detail  from  his  story  of  Langford's  visit  to 


172    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

his  cabin,  for  he  had  not  cared  to  frighten 
Sheila  unnecessarily.  But  as  Langford  rode 
toward  Doubler's  cabin  this  morning  his 
thoughts  persisted  in  dwelling  on  Doubler's 
final  words  to  him,  spoken  as  he  and  Dun- 
can had  turned  their  horses  to  leave  the 
nester's  cabin  the  day  before: 

"  If  it's  goin'  to  be  war,  Langford,  it  ain't 
goin'  to  be  no  pussy-kitten  affair.  I'm 
warnin'  you  to  stay  away  from  the  Two 
Forks.  If  I  ketch  you  or  any  of  your  men 
nosin'  around  there  I'm  goin'  to  bore  you 
some  rapid." 

Langford  had  sneered  then,  and  he 
sneered  nowr  as  he  rode  toward  the  river, 
for  he  had  no  doubt  that  Doubler  had  ut- 
tered the  threat  in  a  spirit  of  bravado.  Of 
course,  he  told  himself  as  he  rode,  the  man 
was  forced  to  say  something,  but  the  idea 
of  him  being  serious  in  the  threat  to  shoot 
any  one  who  came  to  the  Two  Forks  was 
ridiculous. 

All  his  life  Langford  had  heard  threats 
from  the  lips  of  his  victims,  and  thus  far 
they  had  remained  only  threats.  He  had 
determined  to  see  Doubler  this  morning,  for 


STRICTLY  BUSINESS       173 

he  had  noticed  that  the  nester  had  appeared 
ill  at  ease  in  the  presence  of  Duncan,  and 
he  anticipated  that  alone  he  could  force  him 
to  accept  terms.  When  he  reached  the 
crossing  at  Two  Forks  he  urged  his  pony 
through  its  waters,  his  face  wearing  a  con- 
fident smile. 

There  was  an  open  stretch  of  grass  land 
between  the  crossing  and  Doubler's  cabin, 
and  when  Langford  urged  his  pony  up  the 
sloping  bank  of  the  river  he  saw  the  nester 
standing  near  the  door  of  the  cabin,  watch- 
ing. Langford  was  about  to  force  his  pony 
to  a  faster  pace,  when  he  saw  Doubler  raise 
a  rifle  to  his  shoulder.  Still,  he  continued  to 
ride  forward,  but  he  pulled  the  pony  up 
shortly  when  he  saw  the  flame  spurt  from 
the  muzzle  of  the  rifle  and  heard  the  shrill 
hiss  of  the  bullet  as  it  passed  dangerously 
near  to  him. 

No  words  were  needed,  and  neither  man 
spoke  any.  Without  stopping  to  give 
Doubler  an  opportunity  to  speak,  Lang- 
ford wheeled  his  pony,  and  with  a  white, 
scared  face,  bending  low  over  the  animal's 
mane  to  escape  any  bullets  which  might  fol- 


174    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

low  the  first,  rapidly  recrossed  the  river. 
Once  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  on  the  opposite 
side  he  turned,  and  trembling  with  rage  and 
fear,  shook  a  clenched  hand  at  Doubler.  The 
latter's  reply  was  a  strident  laugh. 

Langford  returned  to  the  ranchouse,  rid- 
ing slowly,  though  in  his  heart  was  a  riot  of 
rage  and  hatred  against  the  nester.  It  was 
war,  to  be  sure.  But  now  that  Doubler  had 
shown  in  no  unmistakable  manner  that  he 
had  not  been  trifling  the  day  before,  Lang- 
ford  was  no  longer  in  doubt  as  to  the  method 
he  would  have  to  employ  in  his  attempt  to 
gain  possession  of  his  land.  Doubler,  he 
felt,  had  made  the  choice. 

The  ride  to  the  ranchhouse  took  long,  but 
by  the  time  Langford  arrived  there  he  had 
regained  his  composure,  saying  nothing  to 
anyone  concerning  his  adventure. 

For  three  days  he  kept  his  own  counsel, 
riding  out  alone,  taciturn,  giving  much 
thought  to  the  situation.  Sheila  had  in- 
tended to  speak  to  him  regarding  the  trouble 
with  Doubler,  but  his  manner  repulsed  her 
and  she  kept  silent,  hoping  that  the  mood 
would  pass.     However,  the  mood  did  not 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       175 

pass.  Langford  continued  to  ride  out  alone, 
maintaining  a  moody  silence,  sitting  alone 
much  with  his  own  thoughts  and  allowing 
no  one  to  break  down  the  barrier  of  taciturn- 
ity which  he  had  erected. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  after  his 
adventure  with  Doubler  he  was  sitting  on . 
the  ranchhouse  gallery  with  Duncan,  enjoy- 
ing an  after-breakfast  cigar,  when  he  said 
casually  to  the  latter: 

"  I  take  it  that  folks  in  this  country  are 
mighty  careless  with  their  weapons." 

Duncan  grinned.  "  You  might  call  it 
careless,"  he  returned.  "  No  doubt  there 
are  people — people  who  come  out  here  from 
the  East — who  think  that  a  man  who  carries 
a  gun  out  here  is  careless  with  it.  But  I 
reckon  that  when  a  man  draws  a  gun  here 
he  draws  it  with  a  pretty  definite  purpose." 

"  I  have  heard,"  continued  Langford 
slowly,  "  that  there  are  men  in  this  country 
who  do  not  hesitate  to  kill  other  people  for 
money." 

"  Meaning  that  there  are  road  agents  and 
such?"  questioned  Duncan. 

"  Naturally,  that  particular  kind  would 


176    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

be  included.  I  meant,  however  another 
kind — I  believe  they  are  called  '  bad  men/ 
are  they  not?    Men  who  kill  for  hire?  " 

Duncan  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  Langf ord 
out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  but  could 
draw  no  conclusions  concerning  the  latter's 
motive  in  asking  the  question  from  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face. 

"  Such  men  drift  in  occasionally,"  he  re- 
turned, convinced  that  Langford's  curiosity 
was  merely  casual — as  Langford  desired 
him  to  consider  it.  "  Usually,  though,  they 
don't  stay  long." 

"  I  suppose  there  are  none  of  that  breed 
around  here — in  Lazette,  for  instance.  It 
struck  me  that  Dakota  was  extraordinarily 
handy  with  a  gun." 

He  puffed  long  at  his  cigar  and  saw  that, 
though  Duncan  did  not  answer,  his  face  had 
grown  suddenly  dark  with  passion,  as  it  al- 
ways did  when  Dakota's  name  was  men- 
tioned. Langford  smiled  subtly.  "  I  sup- 
pose," he  said,  "  that  Dakota  might  be  called 
a  bad  man." 

Duncan's  eyes  flashed  with  venom.  "  I 
reckon   Dakota's   nothing   but   a    damned 


STRICTLY  BUSINESS       177 

sneak!"  he  said,  not  being  able  to  conceal 
the  bitterness  in  his  voice. 

Langford  did  not  allow  his  smile  to  be 
seen;  he  had  not  forgotten  the  incident  of 
the  returning  of  Dakota's  horse  by  Duncan. 

"  He's  a  dead  shot,  though,"  he  suggested. 

"  I'm  allowing  that,"  grudgingly  returned 
Duncan.  "And,"  he  added,  "it's  been 
hinted  that  all  his  shooting  scrapes  haven't 
been  on  the  level." 

"He  is  not  straight,  then?"  said  Lang- 
ford,  his  eyes  gleaming.  "  Not  '  square/  as 
you  say  in  this  country?" 

"  I  reckon  there  ain't  nothing  square 
about  him,"  returned  Duncan,  glad  of  an 
opportunity  to  defame  his  enemy. 

Again  Langford  did  not  allow  Duncan  to 
see  his  smile,  and  he  deftly  directed  the  cur- 
rent of  the  conversation  into  other  channels. 

He  rode  out  again  that  day,  taking  the 
river  trail  and  passing  Dakota's  cabin,  but 
Dakota  himself  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  and 
at  dusk  Langford  returned  to  the  Double  R. 
During  the  evening  meal  he  enveloped  him- 
self with  a  silence  which  proved  impene- 
trable.   He  retired  early,  to  Duncan's  sur- 


178     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

prise,  and  the  next  morning,  without  an- 
nouncing his  plans  to  anyone,  saddled  his 
pony  and  rode  away  toward  the  river  trail. 

He  took  a  circuitous  route  to  reach  it, 
riding  slowly,  with  the  air  and  manner  of  a 
man  who  is  thinking  deep  thoughts,  smiling 
much,  though  many  times  grimly. 

"  Dakota  isn't  square,"  he  said  once  aloud 
during  one  of  his  grim  smiles. 

When  he  came  to  the  quicksand  crossing 
he  halted  and  examined  the  earth  in  the 
vicinity,  smiling  more  broadly  at  the  marks 
and  hoof  prints  in  the  hard  sand  near  the 
water's  edge.     Then  he  rode  on. 

Two  or  three  miles  from  the  quicksand 
crossing  he  came  suddenly  upon  Dakota's 
cabin.  Dakota  himself  was  repairing  a  sad- 
dle in  the  shade  of  the  cabin  wall,  and  for 
all  that  Langford  could  see  he  was  entirely 
unaware  of  his  approach.  He  saw  Dakota 
look  up  when  he  passed  the  corral  gate,  and 
when  he  reached  a  point  about  twenty  feet 
distant  he  observed  a  faint  smile  on  Da- 
kota's face. 

11  Howdy,  stranger,"  came  the  latter's 
voice. 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       179 

"How  are  you,  my  friend?"  greeted 
Langford  easily. 

It  was  not  hard  for  Langford  to  adopt  an 
air  of  familiarity  toward  the  man  who  had 
figured  prominently  in  his  thoughts  during 
a  great  many  of  the  previous  twenty-four 
hours.  He  dismounted  from  his  pony, 
hitched  the  animal  to  a  rail  of  the  corral 
fence,  and  approached  Dakota,  standing  in 
front  of  him  and  looking  down  at  him  with 
a  smile. 

Dakota  apparently  took  little  interest  in 
his  visitor,  for  keeping  his  seat  on  the  box 
upon  which  he  had  been  sitting  when  Lang- 
ford had  first  caught  sight  of  him,  he  con- 
tinued to  give  his  attention  to  the  saddle. 

"  I'm  from  the  Double  R,"  offered  Lang- 
ford, feeling  slightly  less  important,  con- 
scious that  somehow  the  familiarity  that  he 
had  felt  existed  between  them  a  moment  be- 
fore was  a  singularly  fleeting  thing. 

"  I  noticed  that,"  responded  Dakota,  still 
busy  with  his  saddle. 

"  How?  " 

"  I  reckon  that  you've  forgot  that  your 
horse  has  got  a  brand  on  him? " 


180    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 


<i 


You've  got  keen  eyes,  mjr  friend," 
laughed  Langford. 

"Have  I?"  Dakota  had  not  looked  at 
Langford  until  now,  and  as  he  spoke  he 
raised  his  head  and  gazed  fairly  into  the 
latter's  eyes. 

For  a  moment  neither  man  moved  or 
spoke.  It  seemed  to  Langford,  as  he  gazed 
into  the  steely,  fathomless  blue  of  the  eyes 
which  held  his — held  them,  for  now  as  he 
looked  it  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that 
his  gaze  had  met  a  fellow  being's  steadily— 
that  he  could  see  there  an  unmistakable, 
grim  mockery.  And  that  was  all,  for  what- 
ever other  emotions  Dakota  felt,  they  were 
invisible  to  Langford.  He  drew  a  deep 
breath,  suddenly  aware  that  before  him  was 
a  man  exactly  like  himself  in  one  respect — 
skilled  in  the  art  of  keeping  his  emotions  to 
himself.  Langford  had  not  met  many  such 
men;  usually  he  was  able  to  see  clear 
through  a  man — able  to  read  him.  But  this 
man  he  could  not  read.  He  was  puzzled 
and  embarrassed  over  the  discovery.  His 
gaze  finally  wavered;  he  looked  away. 

"  A  man  don't  have  to  have  such  terribly 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       181 

keen  eyes  to  be  able  to  see  a  brand,"  observed 
Dakota,  drawling;  "especially  when  he's 
passed  a  whole  lot  of  his  time  looking  at 
brands." 

"  That's  so,"  agreed  Langf  ord.  "  I  sup- 
pose you  have  been  a  cowboy  a  long  time." 

"Longer  than  you've  been  a  ranch 
owner." 

Langford  looked  quickly  at  Dakota,  for 
now  the  latter  was  again  busy  with  his  sad- 
dle, but  he  could  detect  no  sarcasm  in  his 
face,  though  plainly  there  had  been  a  subtle 
quality  of  it  in  his  voice. 

"  Then  you  know  me?  "  he  said. 

"  No.  I  don't  know  you.  I've  put  two 
and  two  together.  I  heard  that  Duncan  was 
selling  the  Double  R.  I've  seen  your  daugh- 
ter. And  you  ride  up  here  on  a  Double  R 
horse.  There  ain't  no  other  strangers  in  the 
country.  Then,  of  course,  you're  the  new 
owner  of  the  Double  R." 

Langford  looked  again  at  the  inscrutable 
face  of  the  man  beside  him  and  felt  a  sudden 
deep  respect  for  him.  Even  if  he  had  not 
witnessed  the  killing  of  Texas  Blanca  that 
day  in  Lazette  he  would  have  known  the 


182    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

man  before  him  for  what  he  was — a  quiet, 
cool,  self-possessed  man  of  much  experience, 
who  could  not  be  trifled  with. 

"  That's  right,"  he  admitted;  "  I  am  the 
new  owner  of  the  Double  R.  And  I  have 
come,  my  friend,  to  thank  you  for  what  you 
did  for  my  daughter." 

"She  told  you,  then?"  Dakota's  gaze 
was  again  on  Langf ord,  an  odd  light  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Certainly." 

"She's  told  you  what?" 

"  How  you  rescued  her  from  the  quick- 
sand." 

Dakota's  gaze  was  still  on  his  visitor, 
quiet,  intent.  "  She  tell  you  anything  else?  " 
he  questioned  slowly. 

"  Why,  what  else  is  there  to  tell?  "  There 
was  sincere  curiosity  in  Langford's  voice, 
for  Sheila  had  always  told  him  everything 
that  happened  to  her.  It  was  not  like  her 
to  keep  anything  secret  from  him. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  that  she  forgot  to  thank 
me  for  saving  her?"  There  was  a  queer 
smile  on  Dakota's  lips,  a  peculiar,  pleased 
glint  in  his  eyes. 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       183 

"No,  she  neglected  to  relate  that,"  re- 
turned Langford. 

"Forgot  it.  That's  what  I  thought.  Do 
you  think  she  forgot  it  intentionally?" 

"  It  wouldn't  be  like  her." 

"  Of  course  not.  And  so  she's  sent  you 
over  to  thank  me!  Tell  her  no  thanks  are 
due.  And  if  she  inquires,  tell  her  that  the 
pony  didn't  make  a  sound  or  a  struggle  when 
I  shot  him." 

"  As  it  happens,  she  didn't  send  me," 
smiled  Langford.  "  There  was  the  excite- 
ment, of  course,  and  I  presume  she  forgot 
to  thank  you — possibly  will  ride  over  herself 
some  day  to  thank  you  personally.  But  she 
didn't  send  me — I  came  without  her  knowl- 
edge." 

"  To  thank  me— for  her  ? " 

"  No." 

"  You're  visiting  then.  Or  maybe  just 
riding  around  to  look  at  your  range.  Sit 
down."  He  motioned  to  another  box  that 
stood  near  the  door  of  the  cabin. 

Once  Langford  became  seated  Dakota 
again  busied  himself  with  the  saddle,  ignor- 
ing his  visitor.     Langford  shifted  uneasily 


184    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

on  the  box,  for  the  seat  was  not  to  his  liking 
and  the  attitude  of  his  host  was  most  pe- 
culiar. He  fell  silent  also  and  kicked 
gravely  and  absently  into  a  hummock  with 
the  toe  of  his  boot. 

Singularly  enough,  a  plan  which  had 
taken  form  in  his  mind  since  Doubler  had 
shot  at  him  seemed  suddenly  to  have  many 
defects,  though  until  now  it  had  seemed 
complete  enough.  Out  of  the  jumble  of 
thoughts  that  had  rioted  in  his  brain  after 
his  departure  from  Two  Forks  crossing  had 
risen  a  conviction.  Doubler  was  a  danger 
and  a  menace  and  must  be  removed.  And 
there  was  no  legal  way  to  remove  him, 
for  though  he  had  not  proved  on  his  land  he 
was  entitled  to  it  to  the  limit  set  by  the  law, 
or  until  his  death. 

Langford's  purpose  in  questioning  Dun- 
can had  been  to  learn  of  the  presence  of 
someone  in  the  country  who  would  not  be 
averse  to  removing  Doubler.  The  possibil- 
ity of  disposing  of  the  nester  in  this  manner 
had  been  before  him  ever  since  he  had 
learned  of  his  presence  on  the  Two  Forks. 
He  had  not  been  surprised  when  Duncan 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       185 

had  mentioned  Dakota  as  being  a  probable 
tool,  for  he  had  thought  over  the  occurrence 
of  the  shooting  in  Lazette  many  times,  and 
had  been  much  impressed  with  Dakota's 
coolness  and  his  satanic  cleverness  with  a 
six-shooter,  and  it  seemed  that  it  would  be 
a  simple  matter  to  arrange  with  him  for  the 
removal  of  Doubler.  Yes,  it  had  seemed 
simple  enough  when  he  had  planned  it,  and 
when  Duncan  had  told  him  that  Dakota  was 
not  on  the  "  square." 

But  now,  looking  covertly  at  the  man,  he 
found  that  he  was  not  quite  certain  in  spite 
of  what  Duncan  had  said.  He  had  mentally 
worked  out  his  plan  of  approaching  Dakota 
many  times.  But  now  the  defect  in  the  plan 
seemed  to  be  that  he  had  misjudged  his  man 
— that  Duncan  had  misjudged  him.  Plainly 
he  would  make  a  mistake  were  he  to  ap- 
proach Dakota  with  a  bald  request  for  the 
removing  of  the  nester — he  must  clothe  it. 
Thus,  after  a  long  silence,  he  started 
obliquely. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "'it  must  be  lone- 
some out  here  for  you." 

"  Not  so  lonesome." 


186    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  It's  a  big  country,  though — lots  of  land. 
There  seems  to  be  no  end  to  it." 

"  That's  right,  there's  plenty  of  it.  I 
reckon  the  Lord  wasn't  in  a  stingy  mood 
when  he  made  it." 

"Yet  there  seem  to  be  restrictions  even 
here." 

"Restrictions?" 

"Yes,"  laughed  Langford;  "restrictions 
on  a  man's  desires." 

Dakota  looked  at  him  with  a  saturnine 
smile.  "  Restrictions  on  a  man's  desires," 
he  repeated  slowly.  Then  he  laughed  mirth- 
lessly. "  Some  people  wouldn't  be  satisfied 
if  they  owned  the  whole  earth.  They'd  be 
wanting  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  thrown  in 
for  good  measure." 

Langford  laughed  agaiij.  "  That's  human 
nature,  my  friend,"  he  contended,  deter- 
mined not  to  be  forced  to  digress  from  the 
main  subject.  "  Have  you  got  everything 
you  want?  Isn't  there  anything  besides 
what  you  already  have  that  appeals  to  you? 
Have  you  no  ambition?" 

"  There  are  plenty  of  things  I  want. 
Maybe   I'd  be  modest,   though,   if  I  had 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS       187 

ambition.  We  all  want  a  lot  of  things  which 
we  can't  get." 

"  Correct,  my  friend.  Some  of  us  want 
money,  others  desire  happiness,  still  others 
are  after  something  else.  As  you  say,  some 
of  use  are  never  satisfied — the  ambitious 
ones." 

"Then  you  are  ambitious?" 

"  You've  struck  it,"  smiled  Langford. 

Dakota  caught  his  gaze,  and  there  was  a 
smile  of  derision  on  his  lips.  "  What  par- 
ticular thing  are  you  looking  for?  "  he  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Land." 

"Mine?"  Dakota's  lips  curled  a  little. 
"  Doubler's,  then,"  he  added  as  Langford 
shook  his  head  with  an  emphatic,  negative 
motion.  "  He's  the  only  man  who's  got 
land  near  yours." 

"  That's  correct,"  admitted  Langford ; 
"I   want   Doubler's  land." 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  few  minutes, 
while  Langford  watched  Dakota  furtively 
as  the  latter  gave  his  entire  attention  to  his 
saddle. 

"  You've  got  all  the  rest  of  those  things 


188    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

you  spoke  about,  then — happiness,  money, 
and  such? "  said  Dakota  presently,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes.    I  am  pretty  well  off  there." 

"  All  you  want  is  Doubler's  land?  "  He 
stopped  working  with  the  saddle  and  looked 
at  Langford.  "  I  reckon,  if  you've  got  all 
those  things,  that  you  ought  to  be  satisfied. 
But  of  course  you  ain't  satisfied,  or  you 
wouldn't  want  Doubler's  land.  Did  you 
offer  to  buy  it?  " 

"  I  asked  him  to  name  his  own  figure,  and 
he  wouldn't  sell — wouldn't  even  consider 
selling,  though  I  offered  him  what  I  con- 
sidered a  fair  price." 

"  That's  odd,  isn't  it?  You'd  naturally 
think  that  money  could  buy  everything. 
But  maybe  Doubler  has  found  happiness 
on  his  land.  You  couldn't  buy  that  from 
a  man,  you  know.  I  suppose  you  care  a 
lot  about  Doubler's  happiness  —  you 
wouldn't  want  to  take  his  land  if  you  knew 
he  was  happy  on  it?  Or  don't  it  make  any 
difference  to  you?"  There  was  faint  sar- 
casm in  his  voice. 

"  As  it  happens,"  said  Langford,  redden- 


STRICTLY  BUSINESS       189 

ing  a  little,  "  this  isn't  a  question  of  happi- 
ness— it  is  merely  business.  Doubler's  land 
adjoins  mine.  I  want  to  extend  my  hold- 
ings. I  can't  extend  in  Doubler's  direction 
because  Doubler  controls  the  water  rights. 
Therefore  it  is  my  business  to  see  that 
Doubler  gets  out." 

"  And  sentiment  has  got  no  place  in  busi- 
ness. That  right?  It  doesn't  make  any  dif- 
ference to  you  that  Doubler  doesn't  want  to 
sell ;  you  want  his  land,  and  that  settles  it — 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned.  You  don't 
consider  Doubler's  feelings.  Well,  I  don't 
know  but  that's  the  way  things  are  run — 
one  man  keeps  what  he  can  and  another 
gets  what  he  is  able  to  get.  What  are  you 
figuring  to  do  about  Doubler? " 

Langford  glanced  at  Dakota  with  an 
oily,  significant  smile.  "  I  am  new  to  the 
country,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "  I  don't 
know  anything  about  the  usual  custom  em- 
ployed to  force  a  man  to  give  up  his  land. 
Could  you  suggest  anything?" 

Dakota  deliberately  took  up  a  wax-end, 
rolled  it,  and  squinted  his  eyes  as  he  forced 
the  end  of  the  thread  through  the  eye  of  the 


190    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

needle  which  he  held  in  the  other  hand.  So 
far  as  Langford  could  see  he  exhibited  no 
emotion  whatever;  his  face  was  inscrutable; 
he  might  not  have  heard. 

Yet  Langford  knew  that  he  had  heard; 
was  certain  that  he  grasped  the  full  mean- 
ing of  the  question ;  probably  felt  some  emo- 
tion over  it,  and  was  masking  it  by  appear- 
ing to  busy  himself  with  the  saddle.  Lang- 
ford's  respect  for  him  grew  and  he  wisely 
kept  silent,  knowing  that  in  time  Dakota 
would  answer.  But  when  the  answer  did 
come  it  was  not  the  one  that  Langford  ex- 
pected. Dakota's  eyes  met  his  in  a  level 
gaze. 

"Why  don't  you  shoot  him  yourself?" 
he  said,  drawling  his  words  a  little. 

"Not  taking  any  chances?"  Dakota's 
voice  was  filled  with  a  cold  sarcasm  as  he 
continued,  after  an  interval  during  which 
Langford  kept  a  discreetly  still  tongue. 
"Your  business  principles  don't  take  you 
quite  that  far,  eh?  And  so  you've  come  over 
to  get  me  to  shoot  him?  Why  didn't  you 
say  so  in  the  beginning — it  would  have 
saved  all  this  time."     He  laughed  coldly. 


STRICTLY   B  USINESS       191 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  you  could  hire 
me  to  put  Doubler  out  of  business? " 

"  I  saw  you  shoot  Blanca,"  said  Lang- 
ford.  "And  I  sounded  Duncan."  It  did 
not  disturb  him  to  discover  that  Dakota  had 
all  along  been  aware  of  the  object  of  his 
visit.  It  rather  pleased  him,  in  fact,  to  be 
given  proof  of  the  man's  discernment — it 
showed  that  he  was  deep  and  clever. 

"  You  saw  me  shoot  Blanca,"  said  Dakota 
with  a  strange  smile,  "  and  Duncan  told 
you  I  was  the  man  to  put  Doubler  away. 
Those  are  my  recommendations."  His 
voice  was  slightly  ironical,  almost  conceal- 
ing a  slight  harshness.  "  Did  Duncan  men- 
tion that  he  was  a  friend  of  mine?"  he 
asked.  "No?"  His  smile  grew  mocking. 
"  Just  merely  mentioned  that  I  was  uncom- 
monly clever  in  the  art  of  getting  people — 
undesirable  people — out  of  the  way.  Don't 
get  the  idea,  though,  because  Duncan  told 
you,  that  I  make  a  business  of  shooting 
folks.  I  put  Blanca  out  of  the  way  because 
it  was  a  question  of  him  or  me — I  shot  him 
to  save  my  own  hide.  Shooting  Doubler 
would      be     quite     another      proposition. 


192    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Still "     He  looked  at  Langford,   his 

eyes  narrowing  and  smoldering  with  a 
mysterious  fire. 

It  seemed  that  he  was  inviting  Langford 
to  make  a  proposal,  and  the  latter  smiled 
evilly.  "  Still,"  he  said,  repeating  Da- 
kota's word  with  a  significant  inflection, 
"  you  don't  refuse  to  listen  to  me.  It  would 
be  worth  a  thousand  dollars  to  me  to  have 
Doubler  out  of  the  way,"  he  added. 

It  was  out  now,  and  Langford  sat  silent 
while  Dakota  gazed  into  the  distance  that 
reached  toward  the  nester's  cabin.  Lang- 
ford watched  Dakota  closely,  but  there  was 
an  absolute  lack  of  expression  in  the  latter's 
face. 

"  How  are  you  offering  to  pay  the  thou- 
sand? "  questioned  Dakota.   "  And  when?  " 

"  In  cash,  when  Doubler  isn't  here  any 


more." 


Dakota  looked  up  at  him,  his  face  a  mask 
of  immobility.  "  That  sounds  all  right,"  he 
said,  with  slow  emphasis.  "  I  reckon  you'll 
put  it  in  writing?  " 

Langford's  eyes  narrowed;  he  smiled 
eraftily.       "  That,"     he     said     smoothly, 


STRICTLY   BUSINESS        193 

"would  put  me  in  your  power.  I  have 
never  been  accused  of  being  a  fool  by  any 
cf  the  men  with  whom  I  have  done  busi- 
ness. Don't  you  think  that  at  my  age  it 
is  a  little  late  to  start? " 

"I  reckon  we  don't  make  any  deal," 
laughed   Dakota   shortly. 

"  We'll  arrange  it  this  way,"  suggested 
Langford.  "  Doubler  is  not  the  only  man 
I  want  to  get  rid  of.  I  want  your  land, 
too.  But " — he  added  as  he  saw  Dakota's 
lips  harden — "  I  don't  purpose  to  proceed 
against  you  in  the  manner  I  am  dealing 
with  Doubler.  I  flatter  myself  that  I  know 
men  quite  well.  I'd  like  to  buy  your  land. 
What  would  be  a  fair  price  for  it? " 

"  Five  thousand." 

"  We'll  put  it  this  way,  then,"  said  Lang- 
ford,  briskly  and  silkily.  "  I  will  give  you 
an  agreement  worded  in  this  manner:  '  One 
month  after  date  I  promise  to  pay  to  Da- 
kota the  sum  of  six  thousand  dollars,  in  con- 
sideration of  his  rights  and  interest  in  the 
Star  brand,  provided  that  within  one  month 
from  date  he  persuades  Ben  Doubler  to 
leave  Union  county.' "    He  looked  at  Da- 


194    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

kota  with  a  significant  smile.  "  You  see," 
he  said,  "  that  I  am  not  particularly  desir- 
ous of  being  instrumental  in  causing  Doub- 
ter's death — you  have  misjudged  me." 

Dakota's  eyes  met  his  with  a  glance  of 
perfect  knowledge.  His  smile  possessed  a 
subtly  mocking  quality — which  was  slightly 
disconcerting  to  Langford. 

"  I  reckon  you'll  be  an  angel — give  you 
time,"  he  said.  "  I  am  accepting  that 
proposition,  though,"  he  added.  "I've 
been  wanting  to  leave  here — I've  got  tired 
of  it.  And  " — he  continued  with  a  myste- 
rious smile — "  if  things  turn  out  as  I  ex- 
pect, you'll  be  glad  to  have  me  go."  He 
rose  from  the  bench.  "Let's  write  that 
agreement,"  he  suggested. 

They  entered  the  cabin,  and  a  few  min- 
utes later  Dakota  sat  again  on  the  box  in 
the  lee  of  the  cabin  wall,  mending  his  saddle, 
the  signed  agreement  in  his  pocket.  Smil- 
ing, Langford  rode  the  river  trail,  satisfied 
with  the  result  of  his  visit.  Turning  once — 
as  he  reached  the  rise  upon  which  Sheila 
had  halted  that  morning  after  leaving  Da- 
kota's cabin,  Langford  looked  back.    Da- 


STRICTLY  B U SINES S       195 

kota  was  still  busy  with  his  saddle.  Lang- 
ford  urged  his  pony  down  the  slope  of  the 
rise  and  vanished  from  view.  Then  Dakota 
ceased  working  on  the  saddle,  drew  out  the 
signed  agreement  and  read  it  through  many 
times. 

"  That  man,"  he  said  finally,  looking  to- 
ward the  crest  of  the  slope  where  Langford 
had  disappeared,  "  thinks  he  has  convinced 
me  that  I  ought  to  kill  my  best  friend.  He 
hasn't  changed  a  bit — not  a  damned  bit!" 


CHAPTER   X 

DUNCAN   ADDS   TWO   AND   TWO 

HAD  Langford  known  that  there  had 
been  a  witness  to  his  visit  to  Da- 
kota he  might  not  have  ridden  away 
from  the  latter's  cabin  so* entirely  satisfied 
with  the  result  of  his  interview, 

Duncan  had  been  much  interested  in 
Langford's  differences  with  Doubler.  He 
had  agitated  the  trouble,  and  he  fully  ex- 
pected Langford  to  take  him  into  his  con- 
fidence should  any  aggressive  movement  be 
contemplated.  He  had  even  expected  to  be 
allowed  to  plan  the  details  of  the  scheme 
which  would  have  as  its  object  the  downfall 
of  the  nester,  for  thus  he  hoped  to  satisfy 
his  personal  vengeance  against  the  latter. 

But  since  the  interview  with  Doubler 
at   Doubler's   cabin,   Langford   had   been 

196 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO    197 

strangely  silent  regarding  his  plans.  Not 
once  had  he  referred  to  the  nester,  and  his 
silence  had  nettled  Duncan.  Langford  had 
ignored  his  hints,  had  returned  monosylla- 
bic replies  to  his  tentative  questions,  caus- 
ing the  manager  to  appear  to  be  an  outsider 
in  an  affair  in  which  he  felt  a  vital  interest. 

It  was  annoying,  to  say  the  least,  and 
Duncan's  nature  rebelled  against  the  slight, 
whether  intentional  or  accidental.  He  had 
waited  patiently  until  the  morning  follow- 
ing his  conversation  with  Langford  about 
Dakota,  certain  that  the  Double  R  owner 
would  speak,  but  when  after  breakfast  the 
next  morning  Langford  had  ridden  away 
without  breaking  his  silence,  the  manager 
had  gone  into  the  ranchhouse,  secured  his 
field  glasses,  mounted  his  pony,  and  fol- 
lowed. 

He  kept  discreetly  in  the  rear,  lingering 
in  the  depressions,  skirting  the  bases  of  the 
hills,  concealing  himself  in  draws  and  be- 
hind boulders — never  once  making  the  mis- 
take of  appearing  on  the  skyline.  And 
when  Langford  was  sitting  on  the  box  in 
front  of  Dakota's  cabin,  the  manager  was 


198     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

deep  into  the  woods  that  surrounded  the 
clearing  where  the  cabin  stood,  watching 
intently  through  his  field  glasses. 

He  saw  Langf ord  depart,  remained  after 
his  departure  to  see  Dakota  repeatedly  read 
the  signed  agreement.  Of  course,  he  was 
entirely  ignorant  of  what  had  transpired, 
but  there  was  little  doubt  in  his  mind  that 
the  two  had  reached  some  sort  of  an  under- 
standing. That  their  conversation  and 
subsequent  agreement  concerned  Doubler 
he  had  little  doubt  either,  for  fresh  in  his 
mind  was  a  recollection  of  his  conversation 
with  Langford,  distinguished  by  Lang- 
ford's  carefully  guarded  questions  regard- 
ing Dakota's  ability  with  the  six-shooter. 
He  felt  that  Langford  was  deliberately 
leaving  him  out  of  the  scheme,  whatever  it 
was. 

Puzzled  and  raging  inwardly  over  the 
slight,  Duncan  did  not  return  to  the  ranch- 
house  that  day  and  spent  the  night  at  one 
of  the  line  camps.  The  following  day  he 
rode  in  to  the  ranchhouse  to  find  that  Lang- 
ford had  gone  out  riding  with  Sheila.  Mo- 
rose, sullen,  Duncan  again  rode  abroad,  re- 
turning with  tihe  dusk.    In  his  conversation 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO    199 

with  Langford  that  night  the  Double  R 
owner  made  no  reference  to  Doubler,  and, 
studying  Sheila,  Duncan  thought  she 
seemed   depressed. 

During  her  ride  that  day  with  her  father 
Sheila  had  received  a  startling  revelation  of 
his  character.  She  had  questioned  him  re- 
garding his  treatment  of  Doubler,  ending 
with  a  plea  for  justice  for  the  latter.  For 
the  first  time  during  all  the  time  she  had 
known  Langford  she  had  seen  an  angry  in- 
tolerance in  his  eyes,  and  though  his  voice 
had  been  as  bland  and  smooth  as  ever,  it 
did  not  heal  the  wound  which  had  been 
made  in  her  heart  over  the  discovery  that 
he  could  feel  impatient  with  her. 

"My  dear  Sheila,"  he  said,  "I  should 
regret  to  find  that  you  are  interested  in  my 
business  affairs." 

"  Doubler  declares  that  you  are  unjust," 
she  persisted,  determined  to  do  her  best  to 
avert  the  trouble  that  seemed  impending. 

"Doubler  is  an  obstacle  in  the  path  of 
progress  and  will  get  the  consideration  he 
deserves,"  he  said  shortly.  "  Please  do  not 
meddle  with  what  does  not  concern  you." 

Thus  had  an  idol  which  Sheila  worshiped 


200     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

been  tumbled  from  its  pedestal.  Sheila  sur- 
veyed it,  lying  shattered  at  her  feet,  with 
moist  eyes.  It  might  be  restored,  patched 
so  that  it  would  resemble  its  original  shape, 
but  never  again  would  it  appear  the  same  in 
her  eyes.  She  had  received  a  glimpse  of  her 
father's  real  character;  she  saw  the  merci- 
less, designing,  real  man  stripped  of  the 
polished  veneer  that  she  had  admired;  his 
soul  lay  naked  before  her,  seared  and  ren- 
dered unlovely  by  the  blackness  of  deceit 
and  trickery. 

As  the  days  passed,  however,  she  collected 
the  fragments  of  the  shattered  idol  and 
began  to  replace  them.  Piece  by  piece  she 
fitted  them  together,  cementing  them  with 
her  faith,  so  that  in  time  the  idol  resembled 
its  original  shape. 

She  had  been  too  exacting,  she  told  her- 
self. Men  had  ways  of  dealing  with  one 
another  which  women  could  not  understand. 
Her  ideas  of  justice  were  tempered  with 
mercy  and  pity;  she  allowed  her  heart  to 
map  out  her  line  of  conduct  toward  her 
fellow  men,  and  as  a  consequence  her  sym- 
pathies were  broad  and  tender.     In  busi- 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO    201 

ness,  though,  she  supposed,  it  must  be  dif- 
ferent. There  mind  must  rule.  It  was  a 
struggle  in  which  the  keenest  wit  and  the 
sharpest  instinct  counted,  and  in  which  the 
emotion  of  mercy  was  subordinate  to  the 
love  of  gain.  And  so  in  time  she  erected 
her  idol  again  and  the  cracks  and  seams  in 
it  became  almost  invisible. 

While  she  had  been  restoring  her  idol 
there  had  been  other  things  to  occupy  her 
mind.  A  thin  line  divides  tragedy  from 
comedy,  and  after  the  tragedy  of  discover- 
ing her  father's  real  character  Sheila  longed 
for  something  to  take  her  mind  out  of  the 
darkness.  A  recollection  of  Duncan's  jeal- 
ousy, which  he  had  exhibited  on  the  day 
that  she  had  related  the  story  of  her  rescue 
by  Dakota,  still  abided  with  her,  and  con- 
vinced that  she  might  secure  diversion  by; 
fanning  the  spark  that  she  had  discovered, 
she  began  by  inducing  Duncan  to  ask  her 
to  ride  with  him. 

Sitting  on  the  grass  one  day  in  the  shade 
of  some  fir-balsams  on  a  slope  several  miles 
down  the  river,  Sheila  looked  at  Duncan 
with  a  smile. 


202    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"I  believe  that  I  am  beginning  to  like 
the  country/'  she  said. 

"  I  expected  you  would  like  it  after  you 
were  here  a  while.  Everybody  does.  It 
grows  into  one.  If  you  ever  go  back  East 
you  will  never  be  contented — you'll  be 
dreaming  and  longing.  The  West  im- 
proves on  acquaintance,  like  the  people." 

"  Meaning? "  she  said,  with  a  defiant 
mockery  so  plain  in  her  eyes  that  Duncan 
drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  Meaning  that  you  ought  to  begin  to 
like  us — the  people,"  he  said. 

"  Perhaps  I  do  like  some  of  the  people," 
she  laughed. 

"  For  instance,"  he  said,  his  face  redden- 
ing a  little. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  taunting  smile. 
"  I  don't  believe  that  I  like  you — so  very 
well.  You  get  too  cross  when  things  don't 
suit  you." 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  he  chal- 
lenged.    "When  have  I  been  cross?" 

Sheila  laughed.  "  Do  you  remember  the 
night  that  I  came  home  and  told  you  and 
father  how  Dakota  had  rescued  me  from 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO    203 

the  quicksand?  Well,"  she  continued,  not- 
ing his  nod  and  the  frown  which  accom- 
panied it,  "  you  were  cross  that  night — 
almost  boorish.  You  moped  and  went  off 
to  bed  without  saying  good-night." 

It  pleased  Duncan  to  tell  her  that  he 
had  forgotten  if  he  had  ever  acted  that  way, 
and  she  did  not  press  him.  And  so  a  silence 
fell  between  them. 

"  You  said  you  were  beginning  to  like 
some  of  the  people,"  said  Duncan  presently. 
"  You  don't  like  me.  Then  who  do  you 
like?" 

"  Well,"  she  said,  appearing  to  meditate, 
but  in  reality  watching  him  closely  so  that 
she  might  catch  his  gaze  when  he  looked  up. 
"  There's  Ben  Doubler.  He  seems  to  be  a 
very  nice  old  man.  And  " — Duncan  looked 
at  her  and  she  met  his  gaze  fairly,  her  eyes 
dancing  with  mischief — "  and  Dakota.  He 
is  a  character,  don't  you  think?" 

Duncan  frowned  darkly  and  removed  his 
gaze  from  her  face,  directing  it  down  into 
the  plain  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
What  strange  fatality  had  linked  her  sym- 
pathies and  admiration  with  his  enemies? 


204    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

A  rage  which  he  dared  not  let  her  see  seized 
him,  and  he  sat  silent,  clenching  and  un- 
clenching his  hands. 

She  saw  his  condition  and  pressed  him 
without  mercy. 

"He  is  a  character,  isn't  he?  An  odd 
one,  but  attractive?" 

Duncan  sneered.  "  He  pulled  you  out  of 
the  quicksand,  of  course.  Anybody  could 
have  done  that,  if  they'd  been  around.  I 
reckon  that's  what  makes  him  'attractive' 
in  your  eyes.  On  the  other  hand,  he  put 
Texas  Blanca  out  of  business.  Does  that 
killing  help  to  make  him  attractive? " 

"  Wasn't  Blanca  his  enemy.  If  you  re- 
member, you  told  father  and  me  that 
Blanca  sold  him  some  stolen  cattle.  Then, 
according  to  what  I  have  heard  of  the  story, 
he  met  Blanca  in  Lazette,  ordered  him  to 
leave,  and  when  he  didn't  go  he  shot  him. 
I  understand  that  that  is  the  code  in  mat- 
ters of  that  sort — people  have  to  take  the 
law  in  their  own  hands.  But  he  gave 
Blanca  the  opportunity  to  shoot  first. 
Wasn't  that   fair?" 

It  seemed  odd  to  her  that  she  was  defend- 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO    205 

ing  the  man  who  had  wronged  her,  yet 
strangely  enough  she  discovered  that  de- 
fending him  gave  her  a  thrill  of  satisfaction, 
though  she  assured  herself  that  the  satis- 
faction came  from  the  fact  that  she  was 
engaged  in  the  task  of  arousing  Duncan's 
jealousy. 

"  You've  been  inquiring  about  him, 
then?"  said  Duncan,  his  face  dark  with 
rage  and  hatred.  "  What  I  told  you  about 
that  calf  deal  is  the  story  that  Dakota  him- 
self tells  about  it.  A  lot  of  people  in  this 
country  don't  believe  Dakota's  story.  They 
believe  what  I  believe,  that  Dakota  and 
Blanca  were  in  partnership  on  that  deal, 
and  that  Dakota  framed  up  that  story 
about  Blanca  selling  out  to  him  to  avert 
suspicion.  It's  likely  that  they  wised  up  to 
the  fact  that  we  were  on  to  them." 

"  I  believe  you  mentioned  your  suspi- 
cions to  Dakota  himself,  didn't  you?  The 
day  you  went  over  after  the  calves?  You 
had  quite  a  talk  with  him  about  them,  didn't 
you?"  said  Sheila,  sweetly. 

Duncan's  face  whitened.  "  Who  told 
you   that?"    he    demanded. 


206    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  And  he  told  you  that  if  you  ever  inter- 
fered with  him  again,  or  that  if  he  heard  of 
you  repeating  your  suspicions  to  anyone,  he 
would  do  something  to  you — run  you  out 
of  the  country,  or  something  like  that,  didn't 
he?" 

"  Who  told  you  that?"  repeated  Duncan. 

"  Doubler  told  me,"  returned  Sheila  with 
a  smile. 

Duncan's  face  worked  with  impotent 
wrath  as  he  looked  at  her.  "  So  Doubler's 
been  gassing  again? "  he  said  with  a  sneer. 
"  Well,  there's  never  been  any  love  lost  be- 
tween Doubler  and  me,  and  so  what  he  says 
don't  amount  to  much*"  He  laughed  oddly. 
"  It's  strange  to  think  how  thick  you  are 
with  Doubler,"  he  said.  "  I  understand  that 
your  dad  and  Doubler  ain't  exactly  on  a 
friendly  footing,  that  your  dad  was  trying 
to  buy  him  out  and  that  he  won't  sell. 
There's  likely  to  be  trouble,  for  your  dad  is 
determined  to  get  Doubler's  land." 

However,  that  was  a  subject  upon  which 
Sheila  did  not  care  to  dwell. 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  am  interested  in 
that,"  she  said.    "  I  presume  that  father  is 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO    207 

able  to  take  care  of  his  own  affairs  without 
any  assistance  from  me." 

Duncan's  eyes  lighted  with  interest.  Her 
words  showed  that  she  was  aware  of  Lang- 
ford's  differences  with  the  nester.  Prob- 
ably her  father  had  told  her — taking  her 
into  his  confidence  while  ignoring  his  mana- 
ger. Perhaps  he  had  even  told  her  of  his 
visit  to  Dakota;  perhaps  there  had  been 
more  than  one  visit  and  Sheila  had  accom- 
panied him.  Undoubtedly,  he  told  himself, 
Sheila's  admiration  for  Dakota  had  resulted 
from  not  one,  but  many,  meetings.  He 
flushed  at  the  thought,  and  was  forced  to 
look  away  from  Sheila  for  fear  that  she 
might  see  the  passion  that  flamed  in  his 
eyes. 

"You  seen  Dakota  lately? "  he  ques- 
tioned, after  he  had  regained  sufficient  con- 
trol of  himself  to  be  able  to  speak  quietly. 

"  No."  Sheila  was  flecking  some  dust 
from  her  skirts  with  her  riding  whip,  and 
her  manner  was  one  of  absolute  lack  of  in- 
terest. 

"  Then  you  ain't  been  riding  with  your 
father? "  said  Duncan. 


208    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 


<< 


Some."  Sheila  continued  to  brush  the 
dust  from  her  skirts.  After  answering  Dun- 
can's question,  however,  she  realized  that 
there  had  been  a  subtle  undercurrent  of 
meaning  in  his  voice,  and  she  turned  and 
looked  sharply  at  him. 

"  Why?  "she  demanded.  "  Do  you  mean 
that  father  has  visited  Dakota? " 

"  I  reckon  I'm  meaning  just  that." 

Sheila  did  not  like  the  expression  in  Dun- 
can's eyes,  and  her  chin  was  raised  a  little 
as  she  turned  from  him  and  gave  her  atten- 
tion to  flecking  the  grass  near  her  with  the 
lash  of  her  riding  whip. 

"  Father  attends  to  his  own  business,"  she 
said  with  some  coldness,  for  she  resented 
Duncan's  apparent  desire  to  interfere.  "  I 
told  you  that  before.  What  he  does  in  a 
business  way  does  not  interest  me." 

"  No?  "  said  Duncan  mockingly.  "  Well, 
he's  made  some  sort  of  a  deal  with  Dakota !  " 
he  snapped,  aware  of  his  lack  of  wisdom  in 
telling  her  this,  but  unable  to  control  his  re- 
sentment over  the  slight  which  had  been  im- 
posed on  him  by  Langf  ord,  and  by  her  own 
chilling  manner,  which  seemed  to  emphasize 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO     209 

the  fact  that  he  had  been  left  outside  their 
intimate  councils. 

"  A  deal?  "  said  Sheila  quickly,  unable  to 
control  her  interest. 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  answer.  He 
felt  her  gaze  upon  him,  and  he  met  it,  smil- 
ing mysteriously.  Under  the  sudden  neces- 
sity of  proving  his  statement,  his  thoughts 
centered  upon  the  conclusion  which  had  re- 
sulted froin  his  suspicions — that  Langford's 
visit  to  Dakota  concerned  Doubler.  Equiv- 
ocation would  have  taken  him  safely  away 
from  the  pitfall  into  which  his  rash  words 
had  almost  plunged  him,  but  he  felt  that 
any  evasion  now  would  only  bring  scorn  into 
the  eyes  which  he  wished  to  see  alight  with 
something  else.  Besides,  here  was  an  op- 
portunity to  speak  a  derogatory  word  about 
his  enemy,  and  he  could  not  resist — could 
not  throw  it  carelessly  aside.  There  was  a 
venomous  note  in  his  voice  when  he  finally 
answered : 

"  The  other  day  your  father  was  speaking 
to  me  about  gun-men.  I  told  him  that  Da- 
kota would  do  anything  for  money." 

A  slow  red  appeared  in  Sheila's  cheeks, 


210    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

mounted  to  her  temples,  disappeared  en- 
tirely and  was  succeeded  by  a  paleness.  She 
kept  her  gaze  averted,  and  Duncan  could 
not  see  her  eyes — they  were  turned  toward 
the  slumberous  plains  that  stretched  away 
into  the  distance  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river.  But  Duncan  knew  that  he  had  scored, 
and  was  not  bothered  over  the  possibility  of 
there  being  little  truth  in  his  implied  charge. 
He  watched  her,  gloating  over  her,  certain 
that  at  a  stroke  he  had  effectually  eliminated 
Dakota  as  a  rival. 

Sheila  turned  suddenly  to  him.  "  How 
do  you  know  that  Dakota  would  do  any- 
thing like  that?" 

Duncan  smiled  as  he  saw  her  lips,  straight 
and  white,  and  tightening  coldly. 

"  How  do  I  know?"  he  jeered.  "How 
does  a  man  know  anything  in  this  country? 
By  using  his  eyes,  of  course.  I've  used 
mine.  I've  watched  Dakota  for  five  years. 
I've  known  all  along  that  he  isn't  on  the 
square — that  he  has  been  running  his  brand- 
ing iron  on  other  folks'  cattle.  I've  told  you 
that  he  worked  a  crooked  deal  on  me,  and 
then  sent  Blanca  over  the  divide  when   he 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO     211 

thought  there  was  a  chance  of  Blanca  giv- 
ing the  deal  away.  I  am  told  that  when  he 
met  Blanca  in  the  Red  Dog  Blanca  told  him 
plainly  that  he  didn't  know  anything  about 
the  calf  deal.  That  shows  how  he  treats  his 
friends.    He'll  do  anything  for  money. 

"  The  other  day  I  saw  your  father  at  his 
cabin,  talking  to  him.  They  had  quite  a 
confab.  Your  father  has  had  trouble  with 
Doubler — you  know  that.  He  has  threat- 
ened to  run  Doubler  off  the  Two  Forks.  I 
heard  that  myself.  He  wouldn't  try  to  run 
Doubler  off  himself — that's  too  dangerous 
a  business  for  him  to  undertake.  Not  want- 
ing to  take  the  chance  himself  he  hires  some- 
one else.  Who?  Dakota's  the  only  gun- 
man around  these  parts.  Therefore,  your 
dad  goes  to  Dakota.  He  and  Dakota  signed 
a  paper — I  saw  Dakota  reading  it.  I've 
just  put  two  and  two  together,  and  that's 
the  result.  I  reckon  I  ain't  far  out  of  the 
way." 

Sheila  laughed  as  she  might  have  laughed 
had  someone  told  her  that  she  herself  had 
plotted  to  murder  Doubler — a  laugh  full  of 
scorn  and  mockery.    Yet  in  her  eyes,  which 


212     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

were  wide  with  horror,  and  in  her  face,  which 
was  suddenly  drawn  and  white,  was  proof 
that  Duncan's  words  had  hurt  her  mortally. 
She  was  silent ;  she  did  not  offer  to  defend 
Dakota,  for  in  her  thoughts  still  lingered  a 
recollection  of  the  scene  of  the  shooting  in 
Lazette.  And  when  she  considered  her 
father's  distant  manner  toward  her  and 
Ben  Doubler's  grave  prediction  of  trouble, 
it  seemed  that  perhaps  Duncan  was  right. 
Yet  in  spite  of  the  shooting  of  Blanca  and 
the  evil  light  which  was  now  thrown  on  Da- 
kota through  Duncan's  deductions,  she  felt 
confident  that  Dakota  would  not  become  a 
party  to  a  plot  in  which  the  murder  of  a 
man  was  deliberately  planned*  He  had 
wronged  her  and  he  had  killed  a  man,  but 
at  the  quicksand  crossing  that  day — despite 
the  rage  which  had  been  in  her  heart  against 
him — she  had  studied  him  and  had  become 
convinced  that  behind  his  recklessness,  back 
of  the  questionable  impulses  that  seemed  at 
times  to  move  him,  there  lurked  qualities 
which  were  wholly  admirable,  and  which 
could  be  felt  by  anyone  who  came  in  con- 
tact  with   him.     Certainly   those   qualities 


ADDING  TWO  AND  TWO     213 

which  she  had  seen  had  not  been  undiscov- 
ered by  Duncan — and  others. 

She  remembered  now  that  on  a  former 
occasion  the  manager  had  practically  ad- 
mitted his  fear  of  Dakota,  and  then  there 
was  his  conduct  on  that  day  when  she  had 
asked  him  to  return  Dakota's  pony.  Dun- 
can's manner  then  had  seemed  to  indicate 
that  he  feared  Dakota — at  the  least  did  not 
like  him.  Ben  Doubler  had  given  her  a  dif- 
ferent version  of  the  trouble  between  Da- 
kota and  Duncan ;  how  Duncan  had  accused 
Dakota  of  stealing  the  Double  R  calves,  and 
how  in  the  presence  of  Duncan's  own  men 
Dakota  had  forced  him  to  apologize.  Taken 
altogether,  it  seemed  that  Duncan's  present 
suspicions  were  the  result  of  his  dislike,  or 
fear,  of  Dakota.  Convinced  of  this,  her 
eyes  flashed  with  contempt  when  she  looked 
at  the  manager. 

"  I  believe  you  are  lying,"  she  said  coldly. 
"  You  don't  like  Dakota.  But  I  have  faith 
in  him — in  his  manhood.  I  don't  believe 
that  any  man  who  has  the  courage  to  force 
another  man  to  apologize  to  him  in  the  face 
of  great  odds,   would,    or    could,    be    so 


214    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

entirely  base  as  to  plan  to  murder  a 
poor,  unoffending  old  man  in  cold  blood. 
Perhaps  you  are  not  lying,"  she  concluded 
with  straight  lips,  "  but  the  very  least  that 
can  be  said  for  you  is  that  you  have  a  lurid 
imagination! " 

In  Duncan's  gleaming,  shifting  eyes,  ill 
the  lips  which  were  tensed  over  his  teeth  in 
a  snarl,  she  could  see  the  bitterness  that  was 
in  his  heart  over  the  incident  to  which  she 
had  just  referred. 

"  Wait,"  he  said  smiling  evilly.  "  You'll 
know  more  about  Dakota  before  long." 

Sheila  rose  and  walked  to  her  pony, 
mounting  the  animal  and  riding  slowly  away 
from  the  river.  She  did  not  see  the  queer 
smile  on  Duncan's  face  as  she  rode,  but  look- 
ing back  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards, 
she  saw  that  he  did  not  intend  to  follow  her. 
He  was  still  sitting  where  she  had  left  him, 
his  back  to  her,  his  face  turned  toward  the 
plains  which  spread  away  toward  Dakota's 
cabin,  twenty  miles  down  the  river. 


CHAPTER   XI 

A  PARTING  AND  A  VISIT 

THE  problem  which  filled  Duncan's 
mind  as  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
slope  overlooking  the  river  was  a 
three-sided  one.  To  reach  a  conclusion  the 
emotions  of  fear,  hatred,  and  jealousy  would 
have  to  be  considered  in  the  light  of  their 
relative  importance. 

There  was,  for  example,  his  fear  of  Da- 
kota, which  must  be  taken  into  account  when 
he  meditated  any  action  prompted  by  his 
jealousy,  and  his  fear  of  Dakota  was  a 
check  on  his  desires,  a  damper  which  must 
control  the  heat  of  his  emotions.  He  might 
hate  Dakota,  but  his  fear  of  him  would  pre- 
vent his  taking  any  action  which  might  ex- 
pose his  own  life  to  risk.  On  the  other  hand, 
jealousy  urged  him  to  accept  any  risk;  it 
kept  telling  him  over  and  over  that  he  was 
a  fool  to  allow  Dakota  to  live.    But  Dun- 

215 


216    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

can  knew  better  than  to  attempt  an  open 
clash  with  Dakota;  each  time  that  he  had 
looked  into  Dakota's  eyes  he  had  seen  there 
something  which  told  him  plainer  than 
words  of  his  own  inferiority — that  he  would 
have  no  chance  in  a  man-to-man  encounter 
with  him.  And  his  latest  experience  with 
Dakota  had  proved  that. 

However,  Duncan's  character  would  not 
permit  him  to  concede  defeat,  and  his  re- 
venge was  not  a  thing  to  be  considered 
lightly.  Therefore,  though  he  sat  for  a  long 
time  on  the  slope,  meditating  over  his  prob- 
lem, in  the  end  he  smiled.  It  was  not  a  good 
smile  to  see,  for  his  eyes  were  alight  with  a 
crafty,  designing  gleam,  and  there  was  a 
cruel  curve  in  the  lines  of  his  lips.  When 
he  finally  mounted  his  pony  and  rode  away 
from  the  slope  he  was  whistling. 

During  the  next  few  days  he  did  not  see 
much  of  Sheila,  for  he  avoided  the  ranch- 
house  as  much  as  possible  .  He  rode  out  with 
Langford  many  times,  and  though  he  cov- 
ertly questioned  the  Double  R  owner  con- 
cerning the  affair  with  Doubler  he  could 
gain  no  satisfying  information.    Langford's 


A  PARTING  AND  A  VISIT    217 

reticence  further  aggravated  the  passions 
which  rioted  in  his  heart,  and  finally  one 
afternoon  when  they  rode  up  to  the  ranch- 
house  his  curiosity  could  be  held  in  check  no 
longer,  and  he  put  the  blunt  question: 

"What  have  you  done  about  Doubler?" 

Langford's  shifting  eyes  rested  for  the 
fraction  of  a  second  on  the  face  of  his  man- 
ager, and  then  the  old,  bland  smile  came  into 
his  own  and  he  answered  smoothly:  "  Noth- 
mg. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  said  Duncan 
carelessly,  but  with  a  sharp  side  glance  at 
his  employer,  "  that  it  wouldn't  be  a  half 
bad  idea  to  set  a  gun-man  on  Doubler — a 
man  like  Dakota,  for  instance." 

The  manager  saw  Langford's  lips 
straighten  a  little,  and  his  eyes  flashed  with 
a  sudden  fire.  The  expression  on  Lang- 
ford's face  strengthened  the  conviction  al- 
ready in  Duncan's  mind  concerning  the  mo- 
tive of  his  employer's  visit  to  Dakota. 

"  I  don't  think  I  care  to  have  any  deal- 
ings with  Dakota,"  said  Langford  shortly. 

Duncan's  eyes  blazed  again.  "  I  reckon 
if  you'd  go  talk  to  him,"  he  persisted,  turn- 


218     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

ing  his  head  so  that  Langford  could  not  see 
the  suppressed  rage  in  his  eyes,  "  you  might 
be  able  to  make  a  deal  with  him." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  deal  with  him*  I  have 
decided  not  to  bother  Doubler  at  present. 
And  I  have  no  desire  to  talk  with  Dakota. 
Frankly,  my  dear  Duncan,  I  don't  like  the 
man." 

"  You  been  in  the  habit  of  forming  opin- 
ions of  men  youVe  never  talked  to?"  said 
Duncan.  He  could  not  keep  the  sneer  out 
of  his  voice. 

Langford  noticed  it  and  laughed  softly. 

"  It  is  my  recollection  that  a  certain  man 
of  my  acquaintance  advised  me  at  length  of 
Dakota's  shortcomings,"  he  said  signifi- 
cantly. "  For  me  to  talk  to  Dakota  after 
that  would  be  to  consider  this  man's  words 
valueless.  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Dakota.  That  is,"  he  added,  "unless  you 
have  altered  your  opinion  of  him." 

Duncan  did  not  reply,  and  he  said  noth- 
ing more  to  Langford  on  the  subject,  but  he 
had  discovered  that  for  some  reason  Lang- 
ford had  chosen  to  keep  the  knowledge  of 
his  visit  to  Dakota   secret,   and  Duncan's 


A  PARTING  AND  A  VISIT    219 

suspicions  that  the  visit  concerned  Doubler 
became  a  conviction.  Filled  with  resent- 
ment over  Langford's  attitude  toward  him, 
and  with  his  mind  definitely  fixed  upon  the 
working  out  of  his  problem,  Duncan  decided 
to  visit  Doubler. 

He  chose  a  day  when  Langford  had  rid- 
den away  to  a  distant  cow  camp,  and  as 
when  he  was  following  the  Double  R  owner, 
he  did  not  ride  the  beaten  trail  but  kept  be- 
hind the  ridges  and  in  the  depressions,  and 
when  he  came  within  sight  of  Doubler's 
cabin  he  halted  to  reconnoiter.  A  swift  sur- 
vey of  the  corral  showed  him  a  rangy,  pie- 
bald pony,  which  he  knew  to  belong  to  Da- 
kota. As  the  animal  had  on  a  bridle  and  a 
saddle  he  surmised  that  Dakota's  visit  would 
not  be  of  long  duration,  and  having  no  de- 
sire to  visit  Doubler  in  the  presence  of  his 
rival,  he  shunted  his  own  horse  off  the  edge 
of  a  sand  dune  and  down  into  the  bed  of  a 
dry  arroyo.  Urging  the  animal  along  this, 
he  presently  reached  a  sand  flat  on  whose 
edge  arose  a  grove  of  fir-balsam  and  cotton- 
wood. 

For    an    hour,    deep    in    the  grove,  he 


220    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDA  Y 

watched  the  cabin,  and  at  length  he  saw  Da- 
kota come  out;  saw  a  smile  on  his  face; 
heard  him  laugh.  His  lips  writhed  at  the 
sound,  and  he  listened  intently  to  catch  the 
conversation  which  was  carried  on  between 
the  two  men,  but  the  distance  was  too  great. 
However,  he  was  able  to  judge  from  the  ac- 
tions of  the  two  that  their  relations  were  de- 
cidedly friendly,  and  this  discovery  imme- 
diately raised  a  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the 
correctness  of  his  deductions. 

Yet  the  doubt  did  not  seriously  affect  his 
determination  to  carry  out  the  plan  he  had 
in  mind,  and  when  a  few  moments  after 
coming  out  of  the  cabin,  Dakota  departed 
down  the  river  trail,  Duncan  slowly  rode 
out  of  the  grove  and  approached  the  cabin* 

Doubler  stood  in  the  open  doorway,  look- 
ing after  Dakota,  and  when  the  latter  finally 
disappeared  around  a  bend  in  the  river  the 
nester  turned  and  saw  Duncan.  Instantly 
he  stepped  inside  the  cabin  door,  reappear- 
ing immediately,  holding  a  rifle.  Duncan 
continued  to  ride  forward,  raising  one  hand, 
with  the  palm  toward  Doubler,  as  a  sign  of 
the  peacefulness  of  his  intentions.    The  lat- 


A  PARTING  AND  A   VISIT    221 

ter  permitted  him  to  approach,  though  he 
held  the  rifle  belligerently. 

"  I  want  to  talk/'  said  Duncan,  when  he 
had  come  near  enough  to  make  himself 
heard. 

"  Pull  up  right  where  you  are,  then," 
commanded  Doubler.  He  was  silent  while 
Duncan  drew  his  pony  to  a  halt  and  sat  mo- 
tionless in  the  saddle  looking  at  him.  Then 
his  voice  came  with  a  truculent  snap: 

"You  alone?" 

Duncan  nodded. 

"Where's  your  new  boss?"  sarcastically 
inquired  Doubler.  "  Ain't  you  scared  he'll 
git  lost — runnin'  around  alone  without  any- 
one to  look  after  him?  " 

"  I  ain't  his  keeper,"  returned  Duncan 
shortly. 

Doubler  laughed  unbelievingly.  "  You 
was  puttin'  in  a  heap  of  your  time  bein'  his 
keeper,  the  last  I  saw  of  you,"  he  declared 
coldly. 

"Mebbe  I  was.  We've  had  a  falling 
out."  The  venom  in  Duncan's  voice  was 
not  at  all  pretended.  "  He's  double  crossed 
me. 


222     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

u  Double  crossed  you?  "  There  was  dis- 
belief and  suspicion  in  Doubler's  laugh. 
"  How's  he  done  that?  I  reckoned  you  was 
too  smart  for  anyone  to  do  that  to  you?  * 
The  sarcasm  in  this  last  brought  a  dark  red 
into  Duncan's  face,  but  he  successfully  con- 
cealed his  resentment  and  smiled. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said;  "I've  got 
more  than  that  coming  from  you.  I'm  tell- 
ing you  about  what  he  done  to  me  if  you 
ain't  got  any  objections  to  me  getting  off 
my  horse." 

11  Tell  me  from  where  you  are."  In  spite 
of  the  coldness  in  the  nester's  voice  there 
was  interest  in  his  eyes.  "  Mebbe  you  an' 
him  have  had  a  fallin'  out,  but  I  ain't  takin* 
any  chances  on  you  bein'  my  friend — not  a 
durned  chance." 

"  That's  right.  I  don't  blame  you  for  not; 
wanting  to  take  a  chance,  and  I'm  not  pre- 
tending to  be  your  friend.  And  I  sure  ain't 
any  friendly  to  Langford.  He's  double 
crossed  me,  but  I  ain't  telling  how  he  done 
it— that's  between  him  and  me.  But  I  want 
to  tell  you  something  that  will  interest  you 
a  whole  lot.    It's  about  some  guy  which  is 


A  PARTING  AND  A   VISIT    MS 

trying  to  double  cross  you.  To  prove  that 
I  ain't  thinking  to  plug  you  when  you  ain't 
looking  I'm  leaving  my  gun  here."  He 
drew  out  his  six-shooter  and  stuck  it  behind 
his  slicker,  dismounted,  and  threw  the  reins 
over  the  pony's  head. 

In  silence  Doubler  suffered  him  to  ap- 
proach, though  he  kept  his  rifle  ready  in  his 
hand  and  his  eyes  still  continued  to  wear  a 
belligerent  expression. 

"  You  and  me  ain't  been  what  you  might 
call  friendly  for  a  long  time,"  offered  Dun- 
can when  he  had  halted  a  few  feet  from 
Doubler.  "  We've  had  words,  but  I've 
never  tried  to  take  any  mean  advantage  of 
you — which  I  might  have  done  if  I'd  wanted 
to."    He  smiled  ingratiatingly, 

"  We  ain't  goin'  to  go  over  what's  hap- 
pened between  us,"  declared  Doubler  coldly. 
"  We're  lettin'  that  go  by.  If  you'll  stick 
to  the  palaver  that  you  spoke  about  mebbe 
we'll  be  able  to  git  along  for  a  minute  or 
two.  Meanwhile,  you'll  excuse  me  if  I  keep 
this  here  gun  in  shape  for  you  if  you  try  any 
monkey  business." 

Duncan   masked  his  dislike    of   Doubler 


224     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

under  a  deprecatory  smile.  "  That's  right/' 
he  agreed,  "  We'll  let  what's  happened  pass 
without  talking  about  it.  What's  between 
us  now  is  something  different.  I've  never 
pretended  to  be  your  friend,  and  I'm  not 
pretending  to  be  your  friend  now.  But 
I've  always  been  square  with  you,  and  I'm 
square  now.  Can  you  say  that  about  him?  " 
He  jerked  his  thumb  in  the  direction  of  the 
river  trail,  on  which  Dakota  had  vanished 
some  time  before. 

"  Him  ?  "  inquired  Doubler.  "  You  mean 
Dakota?"  He  caught  Duncan's  nod  and 
smiled  slowly.  "  I  reckon  you're  some  off 
your  range,"  he  said.  "  There  ain't  no  com- 
parin'  Dakota  to  you — he's  always  been  my 
friend." 

"  A  man's  got  a  friend  one  day  and  he's 
an  enemy  the  next,"  said  Duncan  mysteri- 
ously. 

"Meanin'?" 

"  Meaning  that  Dakota  ain't  so  much  of 
a  friend  as  you  think  he  is." 

Doubler's  lips  grew  straight  and  hard. 
"  I  reckon  that  ends  the  palaver,"  he  said 
coldly,  while  he  fingered  the  rifle  in  his  hand 


A  PARTING  AND  A  VISIT     225 

significantly.  "  If  that's  what  you  come 
for  you  can  be  hittin'  the  breeze  right  back 
to  the  Double  R.    I'm  givin'  you " 

"  You're  traveling  too  fast,"  remon- 
strated Duncan,  a  hoarseness  coming  into 
his  voice.  "  You'll  talk  different  when  you 
hear  what  I've  got  to  say.  I  reckon  you 
know  that  Langford  ain't  any  friendly  to 
you?" 

"  I  don't  see — "  began  Doubler. 

He  was  interrupted  by  Duncan's  harsh 
laugh.  "  Of  course  you  don't  see,"  he  said. 
"  I've  come  over  here  to  make  you  open  your 
eyes.  Langford  ain't  no  friend  of  yours, 
and  I  reckon  that  you  wouldn't  consider 
any  man  your  friend  which  sets  in  his  cabin 
a  couple  of  hours  talking  to  Langford,  about 
you?" 

"Meanin'  that  Langford's  been  to  see 
Dakota?"  Doubler's  voice  was  suddenly 
harsh  and  his  eyes  glinted  with  suspicion. 
Certain  that  he  had  scored,  Duncan  turned 
and  smiled  into  the  distance.  When  he 
again  faced  Doubler  his  face  wore  an  ex- 
pression of  sympathy. 

"  When  a  man's  been  a  friend  to  you  and 


226     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

you  find  that  he's  going  to  double  cross  you, 
it's  apt  to  make  you  feel  pretty  mean,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  allowing  that.  But  there's  a 
lot  of  us  get  double  crossed.  I  got  it  and 
I'm  seeing  that  they  don't  ring  in  any  cold 
deck  on  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  Dakota's  tryin'  to 
do  that?  "  demanded  Doubler. 

Duncan  laughed.  "  I've  kept  my  eyes 
open.  Also,  I've  been  listening  right  hard, 
I  wasn't  so  far  away  when  Langford  went 
to  Dakota's  shack,  and  I  heard  considerable 
of  what  they  said  about  you." 

Doubler's  interest  was  now  intense;  he 
spoke  eagerly:    "  What  did  they  say?" 

"  I  reckon  you  ought  to  be  able  to  guess 
what  they  said,"  said  Duncan  with  a  crafty 
smile.  "  I  reckon  you  know  that  Langford 
wants  your  land  mighty  bad,  don't  you? 
And  you  won't  sell.  Didn't  he  tell  you  in 
front  of  me  that  he  was  going  to  make 
trouble  for  you?  He  wants  me  to  make  it, 
though;  he  wants  me  to  set  the  boys  on  you. 
But  I  won't  do  it.  Then  he  shuts  up  like  a 
clam  and  don't  say  anything  more  to  me 
about  it.    He  saw  Dakota  send  Blanca  over 


A  PARTING  AND  A   VISIT    227 

the  divide  and  he's  some  impressed  by  his 
shooting.  He  figures  that  if  Dakota  puts 
one  man  out  of  business  he'll  put  another 
out." 

"  Meanin'  that  Langford's  hired  Dakota 
to  look  for  me?"  Doubler's  eyes  were 
gleaming  brightly. 

"  You're  some  keen,  after  all,"  taunted 
Duncan. 

Doubler's  jaws  snapped.  "You're  a 
liar!  "  he  said;  "  Dakota  wouldn't  do  it!  " 

"  Maybe  I'm  a  liar,"  said  Duncan,  his 
face  paling  but  his  voice  low  and  quiet.  He 
was  not  surprised  that  Doubler  should  ex- 
hibit emotion  over  the  charge  that  his  friend 
was  planning  to  murder  him,  yet  he  knew 
that  the  suspicion  once  established  in  Doub- 
ler's mind  would  soon  grow  to  the  stature  of 
a  conviction. 

"Maybe  I'm  a  liar,"  repeated  Duncan. 
"  But  if  you'll  use  your  brain  a  little  you'll 
see  that  things  look  bad  for  you.  Dakota's 
been  here.  Did  he  tell  you  about  Langford 
coming  to  see  him?  I  reckon  not,"  he  added 
as  he  caught  Doubler's  blank  stare ;  "  he'd 
likely  not  tell  you  about  it.    But  I  reckon 


228     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

that  if  he  was  your  friend  he'd  tell  you.  I 
reckon  you  told  him  about  Langford  want- 
ing your  land — about  him  telling  you  he'd 
make  things  hot  for  you?  " 

Doubler  nodded  silently,  and  Duncan 
continued.  "  Well,"  he  said,  with  a  short 
laugh,  "  I've  told  you,  and  it's  up  to  you. 
They  were  talking  about  you,  and  if  Da- 
kota's your  friend,  as  you're  claiming  him 
to  be,  he'd  have  told  you  what  they  was  talk* 
ing  about — if  it  wasn't  what  I  say  it  was — 
him  knowing  how  Langford  feels  toward 
you.  And  they  didn't  only  talk.  Langford 
wrote  something  on  a  paper  and  gave  it  to 
Dakota.  I  don't  know  what  he  wrote,  but 
it  seemed  to  tickle  Dakota  a  heap.  Least- 
ways, he  done  a  heap  of  laffing  over  it. 
Likely  Langford's  promised  him  a  heap  of 
dust  to  do  the  job.  Mebbe  he's  your  friend, 
but  if  I  was  you  I  wouldn't  give  him  no 
chance  to  say  I  drawed  first." 

Doubler  placed  his  rifle  down  and  passed 
a  hand  slowly  and  hesitatingly  over  his  fore- 
head. "  I  don't  like  to  think  that  of  Da- 
kota," he  said,  faith  and  suspicion  battling 
for  supremacy.    "  Dakota  just  left  here;  he 


A  PARTING  AND  A  VISIT    220 

acted  a  heap  friendly — as  usual — mebbe 
more  so." 

"  I  reckon  that  when  a  man  goes  gunning 
for  another  man  he  don't  advertise  a  whole 
lot,"  observed  Duncan  insinuatingly. 

"  No,"  agreed  Doubler,  staring  blankly 
into  the  distance  where  he  had  last  seen  his 
supposed  friend,  "  a  man  don't  generally  do 
a  heap  of  advertisin'  when  he's  out  lookin'  for 
a  man."  He  sat  for  a  time  staring  straight 
ahead,  and  then  he  suddenly  looked  up,  his 
eyes  filled  with  a  savage  fierceness.  "  How 
do  I  know  you  ain't  lyin'  to  me? "  he  de- 
manded, glaring  at  Duncan,  his  hands 
clenched  in  an  effort  to  control  himself. 

Duncan's  eyes  did  not  waver.  "  I  reckon 
you  don't  know  whether  I'm  lying,"  he  re- 
turned, showing  his  teeth  in  a  slight  smile. 
"  But  I  reckon  you're  twenty-one  and  ought 
to  have  your  eye-teeth  cut.  Anyway,  you 
ought  to  know  that  a  man  like  Langford, 
who's  wanting  your  land,  don't  go  to  talk 
with  a  man  like  Dakota,  who's  some  on  the 
shoot,  for  nothing.  How  do  you  know  that 
Langford  and  Dakota  ain't  friends?  How 
do  you  know  but  that  they've  been  friends 


W    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

back  East?  Do  you  know  where  Dakota 
came  from  ?  Mebbe  he's  from  the  East,  too. 
I'm  telling  you  one  thing,"  added  Duncan, 
and  now  his  voice  was  filled  with  passion, 
i;  Dakota  and  Sheila  Langford  are  pretty 
thick.  She  makes  believe  that  she  don't  like 
him,  but  he  saved  her  from  a  quicksand,  and 
she's  been  running  with  him  considerable. 
Takes  his  part,  too;  does  it,  but  she  makes 
you  believe  that  she  don't  like  him.  I  reckon 
she's  pretty  foxy." 

Doubler's  memory  went  back  to  a  con- 
versation he  had  had  with  Sheila  in  which 
Dakota  had  been  the  subject  under  discus- 
sion. He  remembered  that  she  had  shown 
a  decided  coldness,  suggesting  by  her  man- 
ner that  she  and  Dakota  were  not  on  the 
best  of  terms.  Could  it  be  that  she  had 
merely  pretended  this  coldness?  Could  it 
be  that  she  was  concerned  in  the  plot  against 
him,  that  she  and  her  father  and  Dakota 
were  combined  against  him  for  the  common 
purpose  of  taking  his  life? 

He  was  convinced  that  any  such  suspicion 
against  Sheila  must  be  unjust,  for  he  had 
studied  her  face  many  times  and  was  cer- 


A  PARTING  AND  A  VISIT    231 

tain  that  there  was  not  a  line  of  deceit  in  it. 
And  yet,  was  it  not  odd  that,  when  he  had 
told  her  of  the  trouble  between  him  and  her 
father,  she  had  not  immediately  taken  her 
parent's  side?  To  be  sure,  she  had  told  him 
that  Langford  was  merely  her  stepfather, 
but  could  not  that  statement  also  have  been 
a  misleading  one?  And  even  if  Langford 
were  only  her  stepfather,  would  she  not 
have  felt  it  her  duty  to  align  herself  with 
him? 

"  I  reckon  you  know  a  heap  about  Da- 
kota, don't  you  ? "  came  Duncan's  voice, 
breaking  into  Doubler's  reflections.  "  You 
know,  for  instance,  that  Dakota  came  here 
from  Dakota — or  anyway,  he  says  he  came 
here  from  there.  We'll  say  you  know  that. 
But  what  do  you  know  about  Langford? 
Didn't  he  tell  you  that  he  was  going  to  '  get 9 
you?" 

Duncan  turned  his  back  to  Doubler  and 
walked  to  his  pony.  He  drew  out  his  six- 
shooter,  stuck  it  into  its  holster,  and  placed 
one  foot  in  a  stirrup,  preparatory  to  mount- 
ing. Then  he  turned  and  spoke  gravely  to 
Doubler. 


232     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  I've  done  all  I  could,"  he  said.    "  You 

know  how  you  stand  and  the  rest  of  it  is  up 

to  you.    You  can  go  on,  letting  Dakota  and 

i  Sheila  pretend  to  be  friendly  to   you,    and 

j  some  day  you'll  get   wise   awful   sudden — ■ 

I  when  it's  too  late.    Or,  you  can  wise  up  now 

and  fix  Dakota  before  he  gets  a  chance   at 

you.     I   reckon  that's  all.     You  can't   say 

that  I  didn't  put  you  wise  to  the  game." 

He  swung  into  the  saddle  and  urged  the 
pony  toward  the  crossing.  Looking  back 
from  a  crest  of  a  rise  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  he  saw  Doubler  still  standing  in  the 
doorway,  his  head  bowed  in  his  hands.  Dun- 
can smiled,  his  lips  in  cold,  crafty  curves, 
for  he  had  planted  the  seed  of  suspicion  and 
was  satisfied  that  it  would  presently  flour- 
ish and  grow  until  it  would  finally  accom- 
plish the  destruction  of  his  rival,  Dakota. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  MEETING  QN  THE  RIVER  TRAIL 

ABOUT  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  of 
a  perfect  day  Sheila  left  the  Double 
R  ranchhouse  for  a  ride  to  the  Two 
Forks  to  visit  Doubler.  This  new  world 
into  which  she  had  come  so  hopefully  had 
lately  grown  very  lonesome.  It  had  prom- 
ised much  and  it  had  given  very  little.  The 
country  itself  was  not  to  blame  for  the  state 
of  her  mind,  though,  she  told  herself  as  she 
rode  over  the  brown,  sun-scorched  grass  of 
the  river  trail,  it  was  the  people.  They — 
even  her  father — seemed  to  hold  aloof  from 
her. 

It  seemed  that  she  would  never  be  able  to 
fit  in  anywhere.  She  was  convinced  that  the 
people  with  whom  she  was  forced  to  asso- 
ciate were  entirely  out  of  accord  with  the 
principles  of  life  which  had  been  her  guide 
— they  appeared  selfish,  cold,  and   distant. 

23$ 


234     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Duncan's  sister,  the  only  woman  beside  her- 
self in  the  vicinity,  had  discouraged  all  her 
little  advances  toward  a  better  acquaint- 
ance, betraying  in  many  ways  a  disinclina- 
tion toward  those  exchanges  of  confidence 
which  are  the  delight  of  every  normal 
woman.  Sheila  had  become  aware  very  soon 
that  there  could  be  no  hope  of  gaining  her 
friendship  or  confidence  and  so  of  late  she 
had  ceased  her  efforts. 

Of  course,  she  could  not  attempt  to  cul- 
tivate an  acquaintance  with  any  of  the  cow- 
boys— she  already  knew  one  too  well,  and 
the  knowledge  of  her  relationship  to  him 
had  the  effect  of  dulling  her  desire  for  seek- 
ing the  company  of  the  others. 

For  Duncan  she  had  developed  a  decided 
dislike  which  amounted  almost  to  hatred. 
She  had  been  able  to  see  quite  early  in  their 
acquaintance  the  defects  of  his  character, 
and  though  she  had  played  on  his  jealousy 
in  a  spirit  of  fun,  she  had  been  careful  to 
make  him  see  that  anything  more  than  mere 
acquaintance  was  impossible.  At  least  that 
was  what  she  had  tried  to  do,  and  she 
doubted  much  whether  she  had  succeeded. 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    235 

Doubler  was  the  only  one  who  had  be- 
trayed any  real  friendship  for  her,  and  to 
him,  in  her  lonesomeness,  she  turned,  in 
spite  of  the  warning  he  had  given  her.  She 
had  visited  him  once  since  the  day  following 
her  father's  visit,  and  he  had  received  her 
with  his  usual  cordiality,  but  she  had  been 
able  to  detect  a  certain  constraint  in  his  man- 
ner which  had  caused  her  to  determine  to 
stay  away  from  the  Two  Forks.  But  this 
morning  she  felt  that  she  must  go  some- 
where, and  she  selected  Doubler's  cabin. 

Since  that  day  when  on  the  edge  of  the 
butte  overlooking  the  river  Duncan  had 
voiced  his  suspicions  that  her  father  had 
planned  to  remove  Doubler,  Sheila  had  felt 
more  than  ever  the  always  widening  gulf 
that  separated  her  from  her  parent.  From 
the  day  on  which  he  had  become  impatient 
with  her  when  she  had  questioned  him  con- 
cerning his  intentions  with  regard  to  Doub- 
ler he  had  treated  her  in  much  the  manner 
that  he  always  treated  her,  though  it  had 
seemed  to  her  that  there  was  something 
lacking;  there  was  a  certain  strained  civility 
in  his  manner,  a  veneer  which  smoothed  over 


236    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

the  breach  of  trust  which  his  attitude  that 
day  had  created. 

Many  times,  watching  him,  Sheila  had 
wondered  why  she  had  never  been  able  to 
peer  through  the  mask  of  his  imperturba- 
bility at  the  real,  unlovely  character  it  con- 
cealed. She  believed  it  was  because  she  had 
always  trusted  him  and  had  not  taken  the 
trouble  to  try  to  uncover  his  real  character. 
She  had  tried  for  a  long  time  to  fight  down 
the  inevitable,  growing  estrangement,  tell- 
ing herself  that  she  had  been,  and  was,  mis- 
taken in  her  estimate  of  his  character  since 
the  day  he  had  told  her  not  to  meddle  with 
his  affairs,  and  she  had  nearly  succeeded  in 
winning  the  fight  when  Duncan  had  again 
destroyed  her  faith  with  the  story  of  her 
father's  visit  to  Dakota. 

Duncan  had  added  two  and  two,  he  had 
told  her  when  furnishing  her  with  the 
threads  out  of  which  he  had  constructed  the 
fabric  of  his  suspicions,  and  she  was  com- 
pelled to  acknowledge  that  they  seemed  suf- 
ficiently strong.  Contemplation  of  the  sit- 
uation, however,  had  convinced  her  that  Da- 
kota was  partly  to  blame,  and  her  anger 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    237 

against  him — greatly  softened  since  the  res- 
cue at  the  quicksand — flared  out  again. 

Two  weeks  had  passed  since  Duncan  had 
told  her  of  his  suspicions,  and  they  had  been 
two  weeks  of  constant  worry  and  dread  to 
her. 

Unable  to  stand  the  suspense  longer  she 
had  finally  decided  to  seek  out  Dakota  to 
attempt  to  confirm  Duncan's  story  of  her 
father's  visit  and  to  plead  with  Dakota  to 
withhold  his  hand.  But  first  she  would  see 
Doubler. 

The  task  of  talking  to  Dakota  about  any- 
thing was  not  to  her  liking,  but  she  com- 
promised with  her  conscience  by  telling  her- 
self that  she  owed  it  to  herself  to  prevent 
the  murder  of  Doubler — that  if  the  nester 
should  be  killed  with  her  in  possession  of 
the  plan  for  his  taking  off,  and  able  to  lift  a 
hand  in  protest  or  warning,  she  would  be  as 
guilty  as  her  father  or  Dakota. 

As  she  rode  she  could  not  help  contrast- 
ing Dakota's  character  to  those  of  her  father 
and  Duncan.  She  eliminated  Duncan  im- 
mediately, as  being  not  strong  enough  to 
compare  either   favorably   or  unfavorably 


238    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

with  either  of  the  other  two.  And,  much 
against  her  will,  she  was  compelled  to  ad- 
mit that  with  all  his  shortcomings  Dakota 
made  a  better  figure  than  her  father.  But 
there  was  little  consolation  for  her,  in  this 
comparison,  for  she  bitterly  assured  herself 
that  there  was  nothing  attractive  in  either. 
Both  had  wronged  her — Dakota  deliberately 
and  maliciously;  her  father  had  placed  the 
bar  of  a  cold  civility  between  her  and  him- 
self, and  she  could  no  longer  go  to  him  with 
her  confidences.  She  had  lost  his  friend- 
ship, and  he  had  lost  her  respect. 

Of  late  she  had  speculated  much  over  Da- 
kota. That  day  at  the  quicksand  crossing 
he  had  seemed  to  be  a  different  man  from 
the  one  who  had  stood  with  revolver  in  hand 
before  the  closed  door  of, his  cabin,  giving 
her  a  choice  of  two  evils.  For  one  thing, 
she  was  no  longer  afraid  of  him;  in  his  treat- 
ment of  her  at  the  crossing  he  had  not  ap- 
peared as  nearly  so  forbidding  as  formerly, 
had  been  almost  attractive  to  her,  in  those 
moments  when  she  could  forget  the  injury 
he  had  done  her.  Those  moments  had  been 
few,  to  be  sure,  but  during  them  she  had 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    239 

caught  flashes  of  the  real  Dakota,  and 
though  she  fought  against  admiring  him, 
she  knew  that  deep  in  her  heart  lingered  an 
emotion  which  must  be  taken  into  account. 
He  had  really  done  her  no  serious  injury, 
nothing  which  would  not  be  undone  through 
the  simple  process  of  the  law,  and  in  his 
manner  on  the  day  of  the  rescue  there  had 
been  much  respect,  and  in  spite  of  the  mock- 
ing levity  with  which  he  had  met  her  re- 
proaches she  felt  that  he  felt  some  slight  re- 
morse over  his  action. 

For  a  time  she  forgot  to  think  about  Da- 
kota, becoming  lost  in  contemplation  of  the 
beauty  of  the  country.  Sweeping  away 
from  the  crest  of  the  ridge  on  which  she  was 
riding,  it  lay  before  her,  basking  in  the  warm 
sunlight  of  the  morning,  wild  and  pictur- 
esque, motionless,  silent — as  quiet  and 
peaceful  as  might  have  been  that  morning 
on  which,  his  work  finished,  the  Creator  had 
surveyed  the  new  world  with  a  satisfied  eye. 

She  had  reached  a  point  about  a  mile 
from  Doubler's  cabin,  still  drinking  in  the 
beauty  that  met  her  eyes  on  every  hand, 
when  an  odd  sound  broke  the  perfect  quiet. 


240     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Suddenly  alert,  she  halted  her  pony  and 
listened. 

The  sound  had  been  strangely  like  a  pis- 
tol shot,  though  louder,  she  decided,  as  she 
listened  to  its  echo  reverberating  in  the  adja- 
cent hills.  It  became  fainter,  and  finally 
died  away,  and  she  sat  for  a  long  time  mo- 
tionless in  the  saddle,  listening,  but  no  other 
sound  disturbed  the  solemn  quiet  that  sur- 
rounded her. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  the  sound  had  come 
from  the  direction  of  Doubler's  cabin,  but 
she  was  not  quite  certain,  knowing  how  diffi- 
cult: it  was  to  determine  the  direction  of 
sound  in  so  vast  a  stretch  of  country. 

She  ceased  to  speculate,  and  once  more 
gave  her  attention  to  the  country,  urging 
her  pony  forward,  riding  down  the  slope 
of  the  ridge  to  the  level  of  the  river  trail. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  still  holding  the 
river  trail,  she  saw  a  horseman  approach- 
ing, and  long  before  he  came  near  enough 
for  her  to  distinguish  his  features  she  knew 
the  rider  for  Dakota.  He  was  sitting  care- 
lessly in  the  saddle,  one  leg  thrown  over 
the  pommel,  smoking  a  cigarette,  and  when 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    241 

he  saw  her  he  threw  the  latter  away,  doffed 
his  broad  hat,  and  smiled  gravely  at  her. 

"Were  you  shooting?"  she  questioned, 
aware  that  this  was  an  odd  greeting,  but 
eager  to  have  the  mystery  of  that  lone  shot 
cleared  up. 

"  I  reckon  I  ain't  been  shooting — lately," 
he  returned.  "  It  must  have  been  Doubler. 
I  heard  it  myself.  I've  just  left  Doubler, 
and  he  was  cleaning  his  rifle.  He  must 
have  been  trying  it.  I  do  that  myself,  of- 
ten, after  I've  cleaned  mine,  just  to  make 
sure  it's  right."  He  narrowed  his  eyes 
whimsically  at  her.  "  So  you're  riding  the 
river  trail  again?"  he  said.  "I  thought 
you'd  be  doing  it." 

"Why?"  she  questioned,  defiantly. 

"Well,  for  one  thing,  there's  a  certain 
fascination  about  a  place  where  one  has 
been  close  to  cashing  in — I  expect  that  when 
we've  been  in  such  a  place  we  like  to  come 
back  and  look  at  it  just  to  see  how  near  we 
came  to  going  over  the  divide.  And  there's 
another  reason  why  I  expected  to  see  you 
on  the  river  trail  again.  You  forgot  to 
thank  me  for  pulling  you  out." 


242     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

He  deserved  thanks  for  that,  she  knew. 
lJut  there  were  in  his  voice  and  eyes  the 
same  subtle  mockery  which  had  marked  his 
manner  that  other  time,  and  as  before  she 
experienced  a  feeling  of  deep  resentment. 
Why  could  he  not  have  shown  some  evi- 
dence of  remorse  for  his  crime  against  her? 
She  believed  that  had  he  done  so  now  she 
might  have  found  it  in  her  heart  to  go  a 
little  distance  toward  forgiving  him.  But 
there  was  only  mockery  in  his  voice  and 
words  and  her  resentment  against  him  grew. 
Mingling  with  it,  moreover,  was  the  bitter- 
ness which  had  settled  over  her  within  the 
last  few  days.  It  found  expression  in  her 
voice  when  she  answered  him: 

"  This  country  is  full  of — of  savages !  * 

"  Indians,  you  mean,  I  reckon?  Well, 
no,  there  are  none  around  here — excepting 
over  near  Fort  Union,  on  the  reservation." 
He  drawled  hatefully  and  regarded  her 
with  a  mild  smile. 

94 1  mean  white  savages ! "  she  declared 
spitefully. 

His  smile  grew  broader,  and  then  slowly 
faded  and  he  sat  quiet,  studying  her  face. 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    243 

The  silence  grew  painful;  she  moved  un- 
easily under  his  direct  gaze  and  a  dash  of 
color  swept  into  her  cheeks.  Then  he  spoke 
quietly. 

"  You  been  seeing  white  savages?  " 

"Yes!"  venomously. 

"  Not  around  here?  "  The  hateful  mock- 
ery of  that  drawl ! 

"  I  am  talking  to  one,"  she  said,  her  eyes 
blazing  with  impotent  anger. 

"  I  thought  you  was  meaning  me,"  he 
said,  without  resentment.  "  I  reckon  I've 
got  it  coming  to  me.  But  at  the  same  time 
that    isn't    exactly    the    way    to    talk    to 

your "    He  hesitated  and  smiled  oddly, 

apparently  aware  that  he  had  made  a  mis- 
take in  referring  to  his  crime  against  her. 
He  hastened  to  repair  it.  "  Your  rescuer," 
he  corrected. 

However,  she  saw  through  the  artifice, 
and  the  bitterness  in  her  voice  grew  more 
pronounced.  "  It  is  needless  for  you  to  re- 
mind me  of  our  relationship,"  she  said;  "  I 
am  not  likely  to  forget." 

"  Have  you  told  your  father  yet?  " 

In  his  voice  was  the  quiet  scorn  and  the 


244     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

peculiar,  repressed  venom  which  she  had  de- 
tected when  he  had  referred  to  her  father 
during  that  other  occasion  at  the  crossing. 
It  mystified  her,  and  yet  within  the  past  few 
days  she  had  felt  this  scorn  herself  and  knew 
that  it  was  not  remarkable.  Undoubtedly 
he,  having  had  much  experience  with  men, 
had  been  able  to  see  through  Langford's 
mask  and  knew  him  for  what  he  was.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life  she  experienced  a 
sensation  of  embarrassed  guilt  over  hearing 
her  name  linked  with  Langford's,  and  she 
looked  defiantly  at  Dakota. 

"  I  have  not  told  him,"  she  said.  u  I 
won't  tell  him.  I  told  you  that  before — I 
do  not  care  to  undergo  the  humiliation  of 
hearing  my  name  mentioned  in  the  same 
breath  with  yours.  And  if  you  do  not  al- 
ready know  it,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  David 
Langford  is  not  my  father;  my  real  father 
died  a  long  time  ago,  and  Langford  is  only 
my  stepfather." 

A  sudden  moisture  was  in  her  eyes  and 
she  did  not  see  Dakota  start,  did  not  ob- 
serve the  queer  pallor  that  spread  over  his 
face,  failed  to  detect  the  odd  light  in  his 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL     245 

eyes.  However,  she  heard  his  voice — 
sharp  in  tone  and  filled  with  genuine  as- 
tonishment. 

"Your  stepfather ?"  He  had  spurred 
his  pony  beside  hers  and  looking  up  she  saw 
that  his  face  had  suddenly  grown  stern  and 
grim.  "  Do  you  mean  that?  "  he  demanded 
half  angrily.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
that  before?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  when 
— the  night  I  married  you?  " 

"  Would  it  have  made  any  difference  to 
you?"  she  said  bitterly.  "Does  it  make 
any  difference  now?  You  have  treated  me 
like  a  savage;  you  are  treating  me  like  one 
now.  I — I  haven't  any  friends  at  all,"  she 
continued,  her  voice  breaking  slightly,  as 
she  suddenly  realized  her  entire  helplessness 
before  the  combined  evilness  of  Duncan,  her 
father,  and  the  man  who  sat  on  his  pony 
beside  her.  A  sob  shook  her,  and  her  hands 
went  to  her  face,  covering  her  eyes. 

She  sat  there  for  a  time,  shuddering,  and 
watching  her  closely,  Dakota's  face  grew 
slowly  pale,  and  grim,  hard  lines  came  into 
his  lips. 

"  I     know    what     Duncan's     friendship 


246    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

amounts  to,"  he  said  harshly.  "  But  isn't 
your  stepfather  your  friend?" 

"My  friend?"  She  echoed  his  words 
with  a  hopeless  intonation  that  closed  Da- 
kota's teeth  like  a  vise.  "  I  don't  know  what 
has  come  over  him,"  she  continued,  looking 
up  at  Dakota,  her  eyes  filled  with  wonder  for 
the  sympathy  which  she  saw  in  his  face  and 
voice;  "he  has  changed  since  he  came  out 
here ;  he  is  so  selfish  and  heartless." 

"  What's  he  been  doing?  Hurting  you?  " 
She  did  not  detect  the  anger  in  his  voice,  for 
he  had  kept  it  so  low  that  she  scarcely  heard 
the  words. 

"  Hurting  me?  No ;  he  has  not  done  any- 
thing to  me.  Don't  you  know? "  she  said 
scornfully,  certain  that  he  was  mocking  her 
again — for  how  could  his  interest  be  genu- 
ine when  he  was  a  party  to  the  plot  to  mur- 
der Doubler?  Yet  perhaps  not — maybe 
Duncan  had  been  lying.  Determined  to 
get  to  the  bottom  of  the  affair  as  quickly 
as  possible,  Sheila  continued  rapidly,  her 
scorn  giving  way  to  eagerness.  "  Don't  you 
know?"  And  this  time  her  voice  was  al- 
most a  plea.    "What  did  father  visit  you 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    247 

for?  Wasn't  it  about  Doubler?  Didn't  he 
hire  you  to — to  kill  him?  " 

She  saw  his  lips  tighten  strangely,  his 
face  grow  pale,  his  eyes  flash  with  some  mys- 
terious emotion,  and  she  knew  in  an  instant 
that  he  was  guilty — guilty  as  her  father! 

"  Oh ! "  she  said,  and  the  scorn  came  into 
her  voice  again.  "Then  it  is  true!  You 
and  my  father  have  conspired  to  murder  an 
inoffensive  old  man!     You — you  cowards!  " 

He  winced,  as  though  he  had  received  an 
unexpected  blow  in  the  face,  but  almost  im- 
mediately he  smiled — a  hard,  cold,  sneer- 
ing smile  which  chilled  her. 

"  Who  has  been  telling  you  this  ?  "  The 
question  came  slowly,  without  the  slightest 
trace  of  excitement. 

"  Duncan  told  me." 

"  Duncan?  "  There  was  much  contempt 
in  his  voice.     "Not  your  father?" 

She  shook  her  head  negatively,  wonder- 
ing at  his  cold  composure.  No  wonder  her 
father  had  selected  him! 

He  laughed  mirthlessly.  "  So  that's  the 
reason  Doubler  was  so  friendly  to  his  rifle 
this    morning?"    he    said,    as    though   her 


248     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

words  had  explained  a  mystery  which  had 
been  puzzling  him.  "  Doubler  and  me  have 
been  friends  for  a  long  time.  But  this 
morning  while  I  was  talking  to  him  he  kept 
his  rifle  beside  him  all  the  time.  He  must 
have  heard  from  someone  that  I  was  gun- 
ing  for  him." 

"Then  you  haven't  been  hired  to  kill 
him?" 

He  smiled  at  her  eagerness,  but  spoke 
gravely  and  with  an  earnestness  which  she 
could  not  help  but  feel.  "  Miss  Sheila," 
he  said,  "  there  isn't  money  enough  in  ten 
counties  like  this  to  make  me  kill  Doubler." 
His  lips  curled  with  a  quiet  sarcasm.  "  You 
are  like  a  lot  of  other  people  in  this  coun- 
try," he  added.  "  Because  I  put  Blanca 
away  they  think  I  am  a  professional  gun- 
man. But  I  want  you" — he  placed  a  sig- 
nificant emphasis  on  the  word — "  to  under- 
stand that  there  wasn't  any  other  way  to 
deal  with  Blanca.  By  coming  back  here 
after  selling  me  that  stolen  Star  stock  and 
refusing  to  admit  the  deed  in  the  presence 
of  other  people — even  denying  it  and  accus- 
ing me — he  forced  me  to  take  the  step  I  did 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL     249 

with  him.  Even  then,  I  gave  him  his 
chance.  That  he  didn't  take  it  isn't  my 
fault. 

"  I  suppose  I  look  pretty  black  to  you, 
because  I  treated  you  like  I  did.  But  it 
was  partly  your  fault,  too.  Maybe  that's 
mysterious  to  you,  but  it  will  have  to  stay  a 
mystery.  I  had  an  idea  in  my  head  that 
night — and  something  else.  I've  found 
something  out  since  that  makes  me  feel  a  lot 
sorry.  If  I  had  known  what  I  know  now, 
that  wouldn't  have  happened  to  you — I've 
got  my  eyes  open  now." 

Their  ponies  were  very  close  together, 
and  leaning  over  suddenly  he  placed  both 
hands  on  her  shoulders  and  gazed  into  her 
eyes,  his  own  flashing  with  a  strange  light. 
She  did  not  try  to  escape  his  hands,  for  she 
felt  that  his  sincerity  warranted  the  action. 

"  I've  treated  you  mean,  Sheila,"  he  said; 
"  about  as  mean  as  a  man  could  treat  a 
woman.  I  am  sorry.  I  want  you  to  be- 
lieve that.  And  maybe  some  day — when 
this  business  is  over — you'll  understand  and 
forgive  me." 

"  This  business?  "    Sheila  drew  back  and 


250    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

looked  at  him  wonderingly.  "What  do 
you  mean?" 

There  was  no  mirth  in  his  laugh  as  he 
dropped  his  hands  to  his  sides.  Her  ques- 
tion had  brought  about  a  return  of  that 
mocking  reserve  which  she  could  not  pene- 
trate. Apparently  he  would  let  her  no  far- 
ther into  the  mystery  whose  existence  his 
words  had  betrayed.  He  had  allowed  her 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  his  inner  self ;  had  shown 
her  that  he  was  not  the  despicable  creature 
she  had  thought  him;  had  apparently  been 
about  to  take  her  into  his  confidence.  And 
she  had  felt  a  growing  sympathy  for  him 
and  had  been  prepared  to  meet  him  half 
way  in  an  effort  to  settle  their  differences, 
but  she  saw  that  the  opportunity  was  gone 
— was  hidden  under  the  cloak  of  mystery 
which  had  been  about  him  from  the  begin- 
ning of  their  acquaintance. 

"  This  Doubler  business,"  he  answered, 
and  she  nibbled  impatiently  at  her  lips, 
knowing  that  he  had  meant  something  else. 

"  That's  evasion,"  she  said,  looking 
straight  at  him,  hoping  that  he  would  relent 
and  speak. 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    251 


"  Is  it? "  In  his  unwavering  eyes  she  saw 
a  glint  of  grim  humor.  "  Well,  that's  the 
answer.  I  am  not  going  to  kill  Doubler — 
if  it  will  do  you  any  good  to  know.  I  don't 
kill  my  friends." 

14  Then/'  she  said  eagerly,  catching  at  the 
hope  which  he  held  out  to  her,  "  father  didn't 
hire  you  to  kill  him?  ^You  didn't  talk  to 
father  about  that? " 

His  lips  curled.  "Why  don't  you  ask 
your  father  about  that?  " 

The  hope  died  within  her.  Dakota's 
words  and  manner  implied  that  her  father 
had  tried  to  employ  him  to  make  way  with 
the  nester,  but  that  he  had  refused.  She 
had  not  been  wrong — Duncan  had  not  been 
wrong  in  his  suspicion  that  her  father  was 
planning  the  death  of  the  nester.  Duncan's 
only  mistake  was  in  including  Dakota  in 
the  scheme. 

She  had  hoped  against  hope  that  she 
might  discover  that  Duncan  had  been  wrong 
altogether;  that  she  had  done  her  father  an 
injury  in  believing  him  capable  of  deliber- 
ately planning  a  murder.  She  looked  again 
ut  Dakota.    There  was  no  mistaking  his 


252     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

earnestness,  she  thought,  for  there  was  no 
evidence  of  deceit  or  knavery  in  his  face, 
nor  in  the  eyes  that  were  steadily  watching 
her. 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  face  and  shiv- 
ered, now  thoroughly  convinced  of  her 
father's  guilt;  feeling  a  sudden  repugnance 
for  him,  for  everybody  and  everything  in 
the  country,  excepting  Doubler. 

She  had  done  all  she  could,  however,  to 
prevent  them  killing  Doubler — all  she  could 
do  except  to  warn  Doubler  of  his  danger, 
and  she  would  go  to  him  immediately. 
Without  looking  again  at  Dakota  she 
turned,  dry  eyed  and  pale,  urging  her  pony 
up  the  trail  toward  the  nester's  cabin,  leav- 
ing Dakota  sitting  silent  in  his  saddle, 
watching  her. 

She  lingered  on  the  trail,  riding  slowly, 
halting  when  she  came  to  a  spot  which  of- 
fered a  particularly  good  view  of  the  coun- 
try surrounding  her,  for  in  spite  of  her  lone- 
someness  she  could  not  help  appreciating 
the  beauty  of  the  land,  with  its  towering 
mountains,  its  blue  sky,  its  vast,  yawning 
distances,     and     the     peacefulness     which 


MEETING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    253 

seemed  to  be  everywhere  except  in  her  heart. 

She  presently  reached  the  Two  Forks  and 
urged  her  pony  through  the  shallow  water  of 
its  crossing,  riding  up  the  slight,  interven- 
ing slope  and  upon  a  stretch  of  plain  beside 
a  timber  grove.  A  little  later  she  came  to 
the  corral  gates,  where  she  dismounted  and 
hitched  her  pony  to  a  rail,  smiling  to  her- 
self as  she  thought  of  how  surprised  Doub- 
ler  would  be  to  see  her. 

Then  she  left  the  corral  gate  and  stole 
softly  around  a  corner  of  the  cabin,  deter- 
mined to  steal  upon  Doubler  unawares. 
Once  at  the  corner,  she  halted  and  peered 
around.  She  saw  Doubler  lying  in  the 
open  doorway,  his  body  twisted  into  a  pecu- 
liarly odd  position,  face  down,  his  arms  out- 
stretched, his  legs  doubled  under  him. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK 

FOR  an  instant  after  discovering  Doub- 
ler  lying  in  the  doorway,  Sheila  stood 
motionless  at  the  corner  of  the  cabin, 
looking  down  wonderingly  at  him.  She 
thought  at  first  that  he  was  merely  resting, 
but  his  body  was  doubled  up  so  oddly  that 
a  grave  doubt  rose  in  her  mind.  A  vague 
fear  clutched  at  her  heart,  and  she  stood 
rigid,  her  eyes  wide  as  she  looked  for  some 
sign  that  would  confirm  her  fears.  And 
then  she  saw  a  moist  red  patch  on  his  shirt 
on  the  right  side  just  below  the  shoulder 
blade,  and  it  seemed  that  a  band  of  steel  had 
been  suddenly  pressed  down  over  her  fore- 
head. Something  had  happened  to  Doub- 
ter! 

The  world  reeled,  objects  around  her 
danced  fantastically,  the  trees  in  the  grove 
near  her  seemed  to  dip  toward  her  in  deri- 

254 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    255 

sion,  her  knees  sagged  and  she  held  tightly 
to  the  corner  of  the  cabin  for  support  in  her 
weakness. 

She  saw  it  all  in  a  flash.  Dakota  had 
been  to  visit  Doubler  and  had  shot  him. 
She  had  heard  the  shot.  Duncan  had  been 
right,  and  Dakota — how  she  despised  him 
now! — was  probably  even  now  picturing  in 
his  imagination  the  scene  of  her  discovering 
the  nester  lying  on  his  own  threshold,  mur- 
dered. An  anger  against  him,  which  arose 
at  the  thought,  did  much  to  help  her  regain 
control  of  herself. 

She  must  be  brave  now,  for  there  might 
still  be  life  in  Doubler 's  body,  and  she  went 
slowly  toward  him,  cringing  and  shrinking, 
along  the  wall  of  the  cabin. 

She  touched  him  first,  lightly  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers,  calling  softly  to  him  in 
a  quavering  voice.  Becoming  more  bold, 
she  took  hold  of  him  by  the  left  shoulder 
and  shook  him  slightly,  and  her  heart  seemed 
to  leap  within  her  when  a  faint  moan  escaped 
his  lips.  Her  fear  fled  instantly  as  she  real- 
ized that  he  was  alive,  that  she  had  not  to 
deal  with  a  dead  man. 


256     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Stifling  a  quivering  sob  she  took  hold  of 
him  again,  tugging  and  pulling  at  him,  try- 
ing to  turn  him  over  so  that  she  might  see 
his  face.  She  observed  that  the  red  patch 
on  his  shoulder  grew  larger  with  the  effort, 
and  her  face  grew  paler  with  apprehension, 
but  convinced  that  she  must  persist  she  shut 
her  eyes  and  tugged  desperately  at  him,  fin- 
ally succeeding  in  pulling  him  over  on  his 
back. 

He  moaned  again,  though  his  face  was 
ashen  and  lifeless,  and  with  hope  filling  her 
heart  she  redoubled  her  efforts  and  finally 
succeeded  in  dragging  him  inside  the  cabin, 
out  of  the  sun,  where  he  lay  inert,  with  wide- 
stretched  arms,  a  gruesome  figure  to  the 
girl. 

Panting  and  exhausted,  some  stray  wisps 
of  hair  sweeping  her  temples,  the  rest  of  it 
threatening  to  come  tumbling  down  around 
her  shoulders,  she  leaned  against  one  of  the 
door  jambs,  thinking  rapidly.  She  ought 
to  have  help,  of  course,  and  her  thoughts 
went  to  Dakota,  riding  unconcernedly  away 
on  the  river  trail.  She  could  not  go  to  him 
for  assistance,  such  a  course  was  not  to  be 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    257 

considered,  she  would  rather  let  Doubler 
die  than  to  go  to  his  murderer;  she  could 
never  have  endured  the  irony  of  such  an  ac- 
tion. Besides,  she  was  certain  that  even 
were  she  to  go  to  him,  he  would  find  some 
excuse  to  refuse  her,  for  having  shot  the 
nester,  he  certainly  would  do  nothing  to- 
ward bringing  the  help  which  might  possibly 
restore  him  to  life. 

She  put  aside  the  thought  with  a  shudder 
of  horror,  yet  conscious  that  something  must 
be  done  for  Doubler  at  once  if  he  was  to  live. 
Perhaps  it  was  already  too  late  to  go  for  as- 
sistance; there  seemed  to  be  but  very  little 
life  in  his  body,  and  trembling  with  anxiety 
she  decided  that  she  must  render  him  what- 
ever aid  she  could.  There  was  not  much 
that  she  could  do,  to  be  sure,  but  if  she  could 
do  something  she  might  keep  him  alive  until 
other  help  would  come. 

She  stood  beside  the  door  jamb  and 
watched  him  for  some  time,  for  she  dreaded 
the  idea  of  touching  him  again,  but  after  a 
while  her  courage  returned,  and  she  again 
went  to  him,  kneeling  down  beside  him,  lay- 
ing her  head  on  his  breast  and  listening. 


258    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

His  heart  was  beating,  faintly,  but  still  it 
was  beating,  and  she  rose  from  him,  deter- 
mined. 

She  found  a  sheath  knife  in  one  of  his 
pockets,  and  with  this  she  cut  the  shirt  away 
from  the  wound,  discovering,  when  she  drew 
the  pieces  of  cloth  away,  that  there  was  a 
large,  round  hole  in  his  breast.  She  came 
near  to  swooning  when  she  thought  of  the 
red  patch  on  his  back,  for  that  seemed  to 
prove  that  the  bullet  had  gone  clear  through 
him.  It  had  missed  a  vital  spot,  though, 
she  thought,  for  it  seemed  to  be  rather  high 
on  the  shoulder. 

She  got  some  water  from  a  pail  that  stood 
just  inside  the  door,  and  with  this  and  some 
white  cloth  which  she  tore  from  one  of  her 
skirts,  she  bathed  and  bandaged  the  wound 
and  laid  a  wet  cloth  on  his  forehead.  She 
tried  to  force  some  of  the  water  down  his 
throat,  but  he  could  not  swallow,  lying  there 
with  closed  eyes  and  drawing  his  breath  in 
short,  painful  gasps. 

After  she  had  worked  with  him  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  or  more  she  stood  up, 
convinced  that  she  had  done  all  she  could 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    250 

for  him  and  that  the  next  move  would  be 
to  get  a  doctor. 

She  had  heard  Duncan  say  that  it  was 
fifty  miles  to  Dry  Bottom,  and  she  knew 
that  it  was  at  least  forty  to  Lazette.  She 
had  never  heard  anyone  mention  that  there 
was  a  doctor  nearer,  and  so  of  course  she 
would  have  to  go  to  Lazette — ten  miles 
would  make  a  great  difference. 

She  might  ride  to  the  Double  R  ranch- 
house,  and  she  thought  of  going  there,  but 
it  was  at  least  ten  miles  off  the  Lazette  trail, 
and  even  though  at  the  Double  R  she  might 
get  a  cowboy  to  make  the  ride  to  Lazette, 
she  would  be  losing  much  valuable  time. 
She  drew  a  deep  breath  over  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  long  ride — at  best  it  would  take 
her  four  hours — but  she  did  not  hesitate 
long  and  with  a  last  glance  at  Doubler  she 
was  out  of  the  door  and  walking  to  the  cor- 
ral, where  she  unhitched  her  pony,  mounted, 
and  sent  the  animal  over  the  level  toward 
the  crossing  at  a  sharp  gallop. 

Once  over  the  crossing  and  on  the  river 
trail  where  the  riding  was  better,  she  held 
the  pony  to  an  even,  steady  pace.       One 


260    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

mile,  two  miles,  five  or  six  she  rode  with  her 
hair  flying  in  the  breeze,  her  cheeks  pale, 
except  for  a  bright  red  spot  in  the  center  of 
each — which  betrayed  the  excitement  under 
which  she  was  laboring.  There  was  a  reso- 
lute gleam  in  her  eyes,  though,  and  she  rode 
lightly,  helping  her  pony  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. However,  the  animal  was  fresh  and 
did  not  seem  to  mind  the  pace,  cavorting 
and  lunging  up  the  rises  and  pulling  hard 
on  the  reins  on  the  levels,  showing  a  desire 
to  run.  She  held  it  in,  though,  realizing 
that  during  the  forty  mile  ride  the  animal 
woud  have  plenty  of  opportunity  to  prove 
its  mettle. 

She  reached  and  passed  the  quicksand 
crossing  from  which  she  had  been  pulled  by 
Dakota,  the  pony  running  with  the  sure 
regularity  of  a  machine,  and  was  on  a  level 
which  led  into  some  hills  directly  ahead, 
when  the  pony  stumbled. 

She  tried  to  jerk  it  erect  with  the  reins, 
but  in  spite  of  the  effort  she  felt  it  sink  un- 
der her,  and  with  a  sensation  of  dismay 
clutching  at  her  heart  she  slid  out  of  the 
saddle. 

A  swift  examination  showed  her  that  the 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    261 

pony's  right  fore-leg  was  deep  in  the  sand 
of  the  trail,  and  she  surmised  instantly  that 
it  had  stepped  into  a  prairie  dog  hole.  When 
she  went  to  it  and  raised  its  head  it  looked 
appealingly  at  her,  and  she  stifled  a  groan 
of  sympathy  and  began  looking  about  for 
some  means  to  extricate  it. 

She  found  this  no  easy  task,  for  the  pony's 
leg  was  deep  in  the  sand,  and  when  she  fin- 
ally dug  a  space  around  it  with  a  branch  of 
tree  which  she  procured  from  a  nearby 
grove,  the  animal  struggled  out,  only  to 
limp  badly.  The  leg,  Sheila  decided,  after 
a  quick  examination,  was  not  broken,  but 
badly  sprained,  and  she  knew  enough  about 
horses  to  be  certain  that  the  injured 
pony  would  never  be  able  to  carry  her 
to   Lazette. 

She  would  be  forced  to  go  to  the  Double 
R  now,  there  was  nothing  else  that  she  could 
do.  Standing  beside  the  pony,  debating 
whether  she  had  not  better  walk  than  try 
to  ride  him,  even  to  the  Double  It,  she  heard 
a  clatter  of  hoofs  and  turned  to  see  Dakota 
riding  the  trail  toward  her.  He  was  travel- 
ing in  the  direction  she  had  been  traveling 
when  the  accident  had  happened,  and  ap- 


262     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

parently  had  left  the  trail  somewhere  back 
in  the  distance,  or  she  would  have  seen 
him.  Perhaps,  she  speculated,  with  a  flash 
of  dull  anger,  he  had  followed  her  near 
to  Doubter's  cabin,  perhaps  had  been  near 
when  she  had  dragged  the  wounded  nester 
into  it. 

His  first  word  showed  her  that  there  was 
ground  for  this  suspicion.  He  drew  up  be- 
side her  and  looked  at  her  with  a  queer 
smile,  and  she,  aware  of  his  guilt,  wondered 
at  his  composure. 

"  You  didn't  stay  long  at  Doubler's 
shack,"  he  said.  "  I  was  on  a  ridge,  back 
on  the  trail  a  ways,  and  I  saw  you  hitting 
the  breeze  away  from  there  some  rapid.  I 
was  thinking  to  intercept  you,  but  you  went 
tearing  by  so  fast  that  I  didn't  get  a  chance. 
You're  in  an  awful  hurry.  What's  wrong?  " 

"  You  ought  to  know  that,"  she  said,  bit- 
terly angry  because  of  his  pretended  seren- 
ity.    "You — you  murderer!" 

His  face  paled  instantly,  but  his  voice  was 
clear  and  sharp. 

"Murderer?"  he  said  sternly.  "Who 
Kas  been  murdered? " 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    263 

"  You  don't  know,  of  course,"  she  said 
scornfully,  her  face  flaming,  her  eyes  alight 
with  loathing  and  contempt.  "  You  shot 
him  and  then  let  me  ride  on  alone  to — to 
find  him,  shot — shot  in  the  back!     Oh!" 

She  shuddered  at  the  recollection,  held 
her  hands  over  her  eyes  for  an  instant  to 
keep  from  looking  at  the  expression  of 
amazement  in  his  eyes,  and  while  she  stood 
thus  she  heard  a  movement,  and  withdrew 
her  hands  from  her  eyes  to  see  him  standing 
beside  her,  so  close  that  his  body  touched 
hers,  his  eyes  ablaze  with  curiosity  and  in- 
terest and  repressed  anxiety.  She  cringed 
and  cried  with  pain  as  he  seized  her  arm  and 
twisted  her  forcibly  around  so  that  she  faced 
him. 

"  Stop  this  fooling  and  tell  me  what  has 
happened ! "  he  said,  with  short,  incisive  ac- 
cents. "  Who  did  you  find  shot?  Who  has 
been  murdered? " 

Oh,  it  was  admirable  acting,  she  told  her- 
self as  she  tore  herself  away  from  him  and 
stood  back  a  little,  her  eyes  flashing  with 
scorn  and  horror.  "You  don't  know,  of 
course,"  she  flared.     "  You  shot  him — shot 


264     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

him  in  the  back  and  sent  me  on  to  find  him. 
You  gloried  in  the  thought  of  me  finding 
him  dead.  But  he  isn't  dead,  thank  God, 
and  will  live,  if  I  can  get  a  doctor,  to  accuse 
you !  "  She  pointed  a  finger  at  him,  but  he 
ignored  it  and  took  a  step  toward  her,  his 
eyes  cold  and  boring  into  hers. 

"Who?"  he  demanded.     "Who?" 

"Ben  Doubler.  Oh!"  she  cried,  in  an 
excess  of  rage  and  horror,  "  to  think  that  I 
should  have  to  tell  you !  " 

But  if  he  heard  her  last  words  he  paid  no 
attention  to  them,  for  he  was  suddenly  at  his 
pony's  side,  buckling  the  cinches  tighter. 
She  watched  him,  fascinated  at  the  repressed 
energy  of  his  movements,  and  became  so  in- 
terested that  she  started  when  he  suddenly 
looked  up  at  her. 

"  He  isn't  dead,  then,"  he  said  rapidly, 
sharply,  the  words  coming  with  short,  metal- 
lic snaps.  "  You  were  going  to  Lazette 
for  a  doctor.  I'm  glad  I  happened  along — 
glad  I  saw  you.  I'll  be  able  to  make  better 
time  than  you." 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  she  demanded, 
scarcely  having  heard   his  words,   though 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    263 

aware  that  he  was  preparing  to  leave.  She! 
took  a  step  forward  and  seized  his  pony's 
bridle  rein,  her  eyes  blazing  with  wrath  over 
the  thought  that  he  should  attempt  to  de- 
ceive her  with  so  bald  a  ruse. 

"  For  the  doctor,"  he  said  shortly.  "  This 
is  no  time  for  melodramatics,  ma'am,  if 
Doubler  is  badly  hurt.  Will  you  please  let 
go  of  that  bridle?" 

"Do  you  think,"  she  demanded,  her 
cheeks  aflame,  her  hair,  loosened  from  the 
long  ride,  straggling  over  her  temples  and 
giving  her  a  singularly  disheveled  appear- 
ance, "  that  I  am  going  to  let  you  go  for  the 
doctor?    You!" 

"  This  isn't  a  case  where  your  feelings 
should  be  considered,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  If 
Ben  Doubler  has  been  hurt  like  you  think 
he  has  I'm  going  to  get  the  doctor  mighty 
sudden,  whether  you  think  I  ought  to  or 
not!" 

"  You  won't !  "  she  declared,  stamping  aJ 
foot  furiously.  "  You  shot  him  and  now 
you  want  to  disarm  suspicion  by  going  after 
the  doctor  for  him.  But  you  won't!  I 
won't  let  you!" 


266    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  You'll  have  to,"  he  said  rapidly.  u  The 
doctor  isn't  at  Lazette;  he  is  over  on  Car- 
rizo  Creek,  taking  care  of  Dave  Moreland's 
wife,  who  is  down  bad.  I  saw  Dave  yester- 
day, and  he  was  telling  me  about  her;  that 
the  doctor  is  to  stay  there  until  she  is  out 
of  danger.  You  don't  know  where  More- 
land's  place  is.  Be  sensible,  now,"  he  said 
gruffly.  "  I'll  talk  to  you  later  about  you 
suspecting  me." 

"You  shan't  go,"  she  protested;  "I  am 
going  myself.  I  will  find  Moreland's  place. 
I  can't  let  you  go — it  would  be  horrible I" 

For  answer  he  swung  quickly  down  from 
the  saddle,  seized  her  by  the  waist,  disen- 
gaged her  hands  from  the  bridle  rein,  and 
picking  her  up  bodily  carried  her,  struggling 
and  fighting  and  striking  blindly  at  his  face, 
to  the  side  of  the  trail.  When  he  set  her 
down  he  pinned  her  arms  to  her  sides.  He 
did  not  speak,  and  she  was  entirely  helpless 
in  his  grasp,  but  when  he  released  his  grasp 
of  her  arms  and  tried  to  leave  her  she  seized 
the  collar  of  his  vest.  With  a  grim  laugh 
he  slipped  out  of  the  garment,  leaving  it 
dangling  from  her  hand. 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    267 

"  Keep  it  for  me,  ma'am,"  he  said  with  a 
cold  chuckle.  "  But  get  back  to  Doubler's 
cabin  and  see  what  you  can  do  for  him. 
You'll  be  able  to  do  a  lot.  I'll  be  back  with 
the  doctor  before  sundown." 

In  an  instant  he  was  at  his  pony's  side, 
mounting  with  the  animal  at  a  run,  and  in  a 
brief  space  had  vanished  around  a  turn  in 
the  trail,  leaving  a  cloud  of  dust  to  mark 
the  spot  where  Shelia  had  seen  him  dis- 
appear. 

For  a  long  time  Sheila  stood  beside  the 
trail,  looking  at  the  spot  where  he  had  dis- 
appeared, holding  his  vest  with  an  uncon- 
scious grasp.  Looking  down  she  saw  it  and 
with  an  exclamation  of  rage  threw  it  from 
her,  watching  it  fall  into  the  sand.  But  af- 
ter an  instant  she  went  over  and  took  it  up, 
recovering,  at  the  same  time,  a  black  leather 
pocket  memoranda  which  had  slipped  out 
of  it.  She  put  the  memoranda  back  into 
one  of  the  pockets,  handling  both  the  book 
and  the  vest  gingerly,  for  she  felt  an  aver- 
sion to  touching  them.  She  conquered  this 
feeling  long  enough  to  tuck  the  vest  into  the 
slicker   behind   the   saddle,   and   then   she 


268     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

mounted  and  sent  her  pony  up  the  trail  to- 
ward Doubler's  cabin. 

She  found  Doubler  where  she  had  left 
him,  and  he  was  still  unconscious.  The 
water  pail  was  empty  and  she  went  down 
to  the  river  and  refilled  it,  returning  to  the 
cabin  and  again  bathing  and  bandaging 
Doubler's  wound,  and  placing  a  fresh  cloth 
on  his  forehead. 

For  a  time  she  sat  watching  the  injured 
man,  revolving  the  incident  of  her  discovery 
of  him  in  her  mind,  going  over  and  over 
again  the  gruesome  details.  She  did  not 
dwell  long  on  the  latter,  for  she  could  not 
prevent  her  mind  reviewing  Dakota's  words 
and  actions — his  satanic  cleverness  in  pre- 
tending to  be  on  the  verge  of  taking  her  into 
his  confidence,  his  prediction  that  she  would 
understand  when  this  "  business  "  was  over. 
She  did  not  need  to  wait,  she  understood 
now! 

Finding  the  silence  in  the  cabin  irksome, 
she  rose,  placed  Doubler's  head  in  a  more 
comfortable  position,  and  went  outside  into 
the  bright  sunshine  of  the  afternoon.  She 
took  a  turn  around  the  corral,  abstractedly 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK     269 

watched  the  awkward  antics  of  several  year- 
lings which  were  penned  in  a  corner,  and 
then  returned  to  the  cabin  door,  where  she 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  step. 

Near  the  side  of  the  cabin  door,  leaning 
against  the  wall,  she  saw  a  rifle.  She 
started,  not  remembering  to  have  seen  it 
there  before,  but  presently  she  found  cour- 
age to  take  it  up  gingerly,  turning  it  over 
and  over  in  her  hands. 

Some  initials  had  been  carved  on  the 
stock  and  she  examined  them,  making  them 
out  finally  as  "  B.  D." — Doubler's.  Exam- 
ining the  weapon  she  found  an  empty  shell 
in  the  chamber,  and  she  nearly  dropped  the 
rifle  when  the  thought  struck  her  that  per- 
haps Doubler  had  been  shot  with  it.  She 
set  it  down  quickly,  shuddering,  and  for  di- 
version walked  to  her  pony,  examining  the 
injured  leg  and  rubbing  it,  the  pony  nicker- 
ing gratefully.  Returning  to  the  cabin  she 
sat  for  a  long  time  on  the  step,  but  she  did 
not  again  take  up  the  rifle.  Several  times 
while  she  sat  on  the  step  she  heard  Doubler 
moan,  and  once  she  got  up  and  went  to  him, 
again  bathing  his  wound,  but  returning  in- 


270    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

stantly  to  the  door  step,  for  she  could  not 
bear  the  silence  of  the  interior. 

Suddenly  remembering  Dakota's  vest  and 
the  black  leather  memoranda  which  had 
dropped  from  one  of  the  pockets,  she  got 
up  again  and  went  to  the  bench  where  she 
had  laid  the  garment,  taking  out  the  book 
and  regarding  it  with  some  curiosity. 

There  was  nothing  on  the  cover  to  sug- 
gest what  might  be  the  nature  of  its  con- 
tents— time  had  worn  away  any  printing 
that  might  have  been  on  it.  She  hesitated, 
debating  the  propriety  of  an  examination, 
but  her  curiosity  got  the  better  of  her  and 
with  a  sharp  glance  at  Doubler  she  turned 
her  back  and  opened  the  book. 

Almost  the  first  object  that  caught  her 
gaze  was  a  piece  of  paper,  detached  from 
the  leaves,  with  some  writing  on  it.  The 
writing  seemed  unimportant,  but  as  she 
turned  it,  intending  to  replace  it  between  the 
leaves  of  the  book,  she  saw  her  father's 
name,  and  she  read,  holding  her  breath  with 
dread,  for  fresh  in  her  mind  was  Duncan's 
charge  that  her  father  had  entered  into  an 
agreement  with  Dakota  for  the  murder  of 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK    271 

Doubler.  She  read  the  words  several  times, 
standing  beside  the  bench  and  swaying  back 
and  forth,  a  sudden  weakness  gripping  her. 

"  One  month  from  to-day " — ran  the 
words — "  I  promise  to  pay  to  Dakota  the 
sum  of  six  thousand  dollars  in  consideration 
of  his  rights  and  interest  in  the  Star  brand, 
provided  that  within  one  month  from  date 
he  persuades  Ben  Doubler  to  leave  Union 
County." 

Signed:  "  David  Dowd  Langford." 

There  it  was — conclusive,  damning  evi- 
dence of  her  father's  guilt — and  of  Da- 
kota's! 

How  cleverly  that  last  clause  covered  the 
evil  intent  of  the  document!  Sheila  read  it 
again  and  again  with  dry  eyes.  Her  horror 
and  grief  were  too  great  for  tears.  She  felt 
that  the  discovery  of  the  paper  removed  the 
last  lingering  doubt,  and  though  she  had 
been  partially  prepared  for  proof,  she  had 
not  been  prepared  to  have  it  thrust  so 
quickly  and  convincingly  before  her. 

How  long  she  sat  on  the  door  step  she  did 
not  know,  or  care,  for  at  a  stroke  she  had 
lost  all  interest  in  everything  in  the  country. 


272     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Even  its  people  interested  her  only  to  the 
point  of  loathing — they  were  murderers, 
even  her  father.  Time  represented  to  her 
nothing  now  except  a  dreary  space  which, 
if  she  endured,  would  bring  the  moment  in 
which  she  could  leave.  For  within  the  last 
few  minutes  she  seemed  to  have  been  robbed 
of  all  the  things  which  had  made  existence 
here  endurable  and  she  was  determined  to 
end  it  all.  When  she  finally  got  up  and 
looked  about  her  she  saw  that  the  sun  had 
traveled  quite  a  distance  down  the  sky.  A 
sorrowful  smile  reached  her  face  as  she 
watched  it.  It  was  going  away,  and  before 
it  could  complete  another  circle  she  would 
go  too — back  to  the  East  from  where  she 
had  come,  where  there  were  at  least  some 
friends  who  could  be  depended  upon  to  com- 
mit no  atrocious  crimes. 

No  plan  of  action  formed  in  her  mind; 
she  could  not  think  lucidly  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  her  father  was  convicted  of  com- 
plicity in  an  attempted  murder. 

Would  she  be  able  to  face  her  father 
again?  To  bid  him  good-bye?  She  thought 
not.     It  would  be  better  for  both  if  she  de- 


THE  SHOT  IN  THE  BACK     273 

parted  without  him  being  aware  of  her  go- 
ing. He  would  not  care,  she  told  herself 
bitterly;  lately  he  had  withheld  from  her  all 
those  little  evidences  of  affection  to  which 
she  had  grown  accustomed,  and  it  would 
not  be  hard  for  him,  he  would  not  miss  her, 
perhaps  would  even  be  glad  of  her  absence, 
for  then  he  could  continue  his  murderous 
schemes  without  fear  of  her  "  meddling " 
with  them. 

There  was  a  fascination  in  the  paper  on 
which  was  written  the  signed  agreement. 
She  read  it  carefully  again,  and  then  con- 
cealed it  in  her  bodice,  pinning  it  there  so 
that  it  would  not  become  lost.  Then  she 
rose  and  went  into  the  cabin,  placing  the 
memoranda  on  a  shelf  where  Dakota  would 
be  sure  to  find  it  when  he  returned  with  the 
doctor.  She  did  not  care  to  read  anything 
contained  in  it. 

Marveling  at  her  coolness,  she  went  out- 
side again  and  resumed  her  seat  on  the  door 
step.  It  was  not  such  a  blow  to  her,  after 
all,  and  there  arose  in  her  mind  as  she  sat 
on  the  step  a  wonder  as  to  how  her  father 
would  act  were  she  to  confront  him  with 


274     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

evidence  of  his  guilt.  Perhaps  she  would 
not  show  him  the  paper,  but  she  finally  be- 
came convinced  that  she  must  talk  to  him, 
must  learn  from  him  in  some  manner  his 
connection  with  the  attempted  murder  of 
Doubler.  Then,  after  receiving  from  him 
some  sign  which  would  convince  her,  she 
would  take  her  belongings  and  depart  for 
the  East,  leaving  him  to  his  own  devices. 

Looking  up  at  the  sun,  she  saw  that  it 
still  had  quite  a  distance  to  travel  before  it 
reached  the  mountains.  Stealing  into  the 
cabin,  she  once  more  fixed  the  bandages  on 
the  wounded  man.  Then  she  went  out, 
mounted  her  pony,  and  rode  through  the 
shallow  water  of  the  crossing  toward  the 
Double  R  ranch. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LANGF0RD   LAYS   OFF   THE   MASK 

THE  sun  was  still  an  hour  above  the 
horizon  when  Sheila  rode  up  to  the 
corral  gates.  While  removing  the 
saddle  and  bridle  from  her  pony  she  noted 
with  satisfaction  that  the  horse  which  her 
father  had  been  accustomed  to  ride  was  in- 
side the  corral.  Therefore  her  father  was 
somewhere  about. 

Hanging  the  saddle  and  bridle  from  a 
rail  of  the  corral  fence,  she  went  into  the 
house  to  find  that  Langford  was  not  there. 
Duncan's  sister  curtly  informed  her  that  she 
had  seen  him  a  few  minutes  before  down  at 
the  stables.  Sheila  went  into  the  office, 
which  was  a  lean-to  addition  to  the  ranch- 
house,  and  seating  herself  at  her  father's 
desk  picked  up  a  six  month's  old  copy  of  a 
magazine  and  tried  to  read. 

275 


276     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Finding  that  she  could  not  concentrate 
her  thoughts,  she  dropped  the  magazine  into 
her  lap  and  leaned  back  with  a  sigh.  From 
where  she  sat  she  had  a  good  view  of  the 
stables,  and  fifteen  minutes  later,  while  she 
still  watched,  she  saw  Langford  come  out 
of  one  of  the  stable  doors  and  walk  toward 
the  house.  She  felt  absolutely  no  emotion 
whatever  over  his  coming;  there  was  only  a 
mild  curiosity  in  her  mind  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  he  would  take  the  news  of  her  in- 
tended departure  from  the  Double  R.  She 
observed,  with  a  sort  of  detached  interest, 
that  he  looked  twice  at  her  saddle  and  bridle 
as  he  passed  them,  and  so  of  course  he  sur- 
mised that  she  had  come  in  from  her  ride. 
For  a  moment  she  lost  sight  of  him  behind 
some  buildings,  and  then  he  opened  the  door 
of  the  office  and  entered. 

He  stopped  on  the  threshold  for  an  in- 
stant and  looked  at  her,  evidently  expecting 
her  to  offer  her  usual  greeting.  He  frowned 
slightly  when  it  did  not  come,  and  then 
smiled. 

"Hello!"  he  said  cordially.  "You  are 
back,  I  see.     And  tired,"  he  added,  noting 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  277 

her  position.  He  walked  over  and  laid  a 
hand  on  her  forehead  and  she  involuntarily 
shrank  from  his  touch,  shuddering,  for  the 
hand  which  he  had  placed  on  her  forehead 
was  the  right  one — the  hand  with  which  he 
had  signed  the  agreement  with  Dakota — 
Doubler's  death  warrant. 

"  Don't,  please,"  she  said. 

"  Cross,  too?  "  he  said  jocularly. 

"  Just  tired,"  she  lied  listlessly,  and  with 
an  air  of  great  indifference. 

He  looked  critically  at  her  for  an  instant, 
then  smiled  again  and  dragged  a  chair  over 
near  a  window  and  looked  out,  apparently 
little  concerned  over  her  manner.  But  she 
noted  that  he  glanced  furtively  at  her  sev- 
eral times,  and  that  he  seemed  greatly  sat- 
isfied over  something.  She  wondered  if  he 
had  seen  Dakota ;  if  he  knew  that  the  latter 
had  already  attempted  to  carry  out  the 
agreement  to  "  Persuade  Doubler  to  leave 
the  county." 

"Ride  far?"  he  questioned,  turning  and 
facing  her,  his  voice  casual. 

"  Not  very  far." 

"The  river  trail?" 


278     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  nodded,  and  saw  a  sudden  interest 
flash  into  his  eyes. 

"  Which  way?  "  he  asked  quickly, 

"Down,"  she  returned.  She  had  not 
lied,  for  she  had  ridden  "  down,"  and 
though  she  had  also  ridden  up  the  river  she 
preferred  to  let  him  guess  a  little,  for  she 
resented  the  curiosity  in  his  voice  and  was 
determined  to  broach  the  subject  which  she 
had  in  mind  in  her  own  time  and  after  the 
manner  that  suited  her  best. 

He  had  not  been  interested  in  her  for  a 
long  time,  had  not  appeared  to  care  where 
she  spent  her  time.  Why  should  he  betray 
interest  now?  She  saw  a  mysterious  smile 
on  his  face  and  knew  before  he  spoke  that 
his  apparent  interest  in  her  was  not  genuine 
— that  he  was  merely  curious. 

"  Then  you  haven't  heard  the  news?"  he 
said  softly.  He  was  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow now,  and  she  could  not  see  his  face. 

She  took  up  the  magazine  and  turned 
several  pages,  pretending  to  read,  but  in 
reality  waiting  for  him  to  continue.  When 
he  made  no  effort  to  do  so  her  own  curiosity 
got  the  better  of  her. 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  279 


"What  news?"  she  questioned,  without 
looking  at  him. 

"About  Doubler,"  he  said.  "He  is 
dead/' 

Her  surprise  was  genuine,  and  her  hands 
trembled  as  the  leaves  of  the  magazine 
fluttered  and  closed.  Had  the  nester  died 
since  she  had  left  his  cabin?  A  moment's 
thought  convinced  her  that  this  could  not 
be  the  explanation,  for  assuredly  she  would 
have  seen  anyone  who  had  arrived  at  Doub- 
lets cabin ;  she  had  scanned  the  surrounding 
country  before  and  after  leaving  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  crossing  and  had  seen  no  signs  of 
anyone.  Besides,  Langford's  news  seemed 
to  have  abided  with  him  a  long  time — it 
seemed  to  her  that  he  had  known  it  for 
hours.  She  could  not  tell  why  she  felt  this, 
but  she  was  certain  that  he  had  not  received 
word  recently — within  an  hour  or  two  at 
any  rate — unless  he  had  seen  Dakota. 

This  seemed  to  be  the  secret  of  his  knowl- 
edge, and  the  more  she  considered  the  lat- 
ter's  excitement  during  her  meeting  with 
him  on  the  trail,  the  more  fully  she  became 
convinced  that  Langford  had  talked  to  him* 


280    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

The  latter's  anxiety  to  relieve  her  of  the 
task  of  riding  to  Lazette  for  the  doctor  had 
been  spurious;  he  had  merely  wanted  to  be 
the  first  to  carry  the  inews  of  Doubler's 
death  to  Langford,  and  after  leaving  her 
he  had  undoubtedly  taken  a  roundabout 
trail  for  the  Double  R.  Possibly  by  this 
time  he  had  settled  with  Langford  and  was 
on  his  way  out  of  the  country. 

"  Dead? "  she  said,  turning  to  Langford. 
"  Who "  In  her  momentary  excite- 
ment she  had  come  very  near  to  asking  him 
who  had  brought  him  the  news.  She  hesi- 
tated, for  she  saw  a  glint  of  surprise  and 
suspicion  in  his  eyes. 

"  My  dear  girl,  did  I  say  that  he  had 
been  '  killed'?" 

His  smile  was  without  humor.  Evidently 
he  had  expected  that  she  had  been  about  to 
ask  who  had  killed  the  nester. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily,  an  intolerant 
smile  playing  about  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  "  I  am  aware  that  you  have  been 
suspicious  of  me  ever  since  you  heard  that 
I  had  a  quarrel  with  Doubler.  But,  thank 
God,  my  dear,  I  have  not  that  crime  to  an- 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  281 

swer  for.  Doubler,  however,  has  been 
killed — murdered." 

Sheila  repressed  a  desire  to  shudder,  and 
turned  from  Langford  so  that  he  would  not 
be  able  to  see  the  disgust  that  had  come 
into  her  eyes  over  the  discovery  that  in  addi- 
tion to  being  a  murderer  her  father  was  that 
most  despicable  of  all  living  things — a  hypo- 
crite! It  required  all  of  her  composure  to 
be  able  to  look  at  him  again. 

"Who  killed  him?"  she  asked  evenly. 

"  Dakota,  my  dear." 

"  Dakota !  "  She  pronounced  the  name 
abstractedly,  for  she  was  surprised  at  the 
admission. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  Dakota  killed 
him?"  she  said,  looking  straight  at  him. 
He  changed  color,  though  his  manner  was 
still  smooth  and  his  smile  bland. 

"  Duncan  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  in 
the  vicinity  when  the  deed  was  committed," 
he  told  her.  "  And  he  saw  Dakota  shoot 
him  in  the  back.    With  his  own  rifle,  too." 

There  was  a  quality  in  his  voice  which 
hinted  at  satisfaction;  a  peculiar  emphasis 
on    the    word    "  fortunate "    which    caused 


282     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  to  wonder  why  he  should  consider  it 
fortunate  that  Duncan  had  seen  the  murder 
done,  when  it  would  have  been  much  better 
for  the  success  of  Dakota's  and  her  father's 
scheme  if  there  had  been  no  witness  to  it 
at  all. 

"  However,"  continued  Langford,  with  a 
sigh  of  resignation  that  caused  Sheila  a 
shiver  of  repugnance  and  horror,  "  Doub- 
lets death  will  not  be  a  very  great  loss  to 
the  country.  Duncan  tells  me  that  he  has 
long  been  suspected  of  cattle  stealing,  and 
sooner  or  later  he  would  have  been  caught  in 
the  act.  And  as  for  Dakota,"  he  laughed 
harshly,  with  a  note  of  suppressed  triumph 
that  filled  her  with  an  unaccountable  resent- 
ment; "Dakota  is  an  evil  in  the  country, 
too.  Do  you  remember  how  he  killed  that 
Mexican  half-breed  over  in  Lazette  that 
day? — the  day  I  came?  Wanton  murder, 
I  call  it.  Such  a  man  is  a  danger  and  a 
menace,  and  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  see  him 
hanged  for  killing  Doubler." 

"  Then  you  will  have  Duncan  charge  Da- 
kota with  the  murder? " 

"Of  course,  my  dear;  why  shouldn't  It 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  283 

Assuredly  you  would  not  allow  Dakota  to 
go  unpunished? " 

"  No,"  said  Sheila,  "  Doublets  murderer 
should  be  punished." 

Two  things  were  now  fixed  in  her  mind 
as  certainties.  Dakota  had  not  beeiyto  see 
her  father  since  she  had  left  him  on  the 
river  trail;  he  had  not  received  his  blood- 
money — would  never  receive  it.  Her  father 
had  no  intention  of  living  up  to  his  agree- 
ment with  Dakota  and  intended  to  allow 
him  to  be  hanged.  She  thought  of  the 
signed  agreement  in  her  bodice.  Langford 
had  given  it  to  Dakota,  but  she  had  little 
doubt  that  in  case  Dakota  still  had  it  in  his 
possession  and  dared  to  produce  it,  Lang- 
ford  would  deny  having  made  it — would 
probably  term  it  a  forgery.  It  was  harm- 
less, too;  who  would  be  likely  to  intimate 
that  the  clause  regarding  Dakota  inducing 
Doubler  to  leave  the  country  meant  that 
Langford  had  hired  Dakota  to  kill  the 
nester?  Sheila  sat  silent,  looking  at  Lang- 
ford, wondering  how  it  happened  that  he 
had  been  able  to  masquerade  so  long  before 
her;  why  she  had  permitted  herself  to  love 


284     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

a  being  so  depraved,  so  entirely  lacking  in 
principle. 

But  a  thrill  of  hope  swept  over  her.  Per- 
haps Doubler  would  not  die?  She  had  been 
considering  the  situation  from  the  viewpoint 
of  the  nester's  death,  but  if  Dakota  had 
really  been  in  earnest  and  had  gone  for  a 
doctor,  there  was  a  chance  that  the  tragedy 
which  seemed  so  imminent  would  be  turned 
into  something  less  serious.  Immediately 
her  spirits  rose  and  she  was.  able  to  smile 
quietly  at  Langford  when  he  continued: 

"  Dakota  will  be  hung,  of  course;  decency 
demands  it.  When  Duncan  came  to  me 
with  the  news  I  sent  him  instantly  to  Laz- 
ette  to  inform  the  sheriff  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. Undoubtedly  he  will  take  Dakota 
into  custody  at  once." 

"  But  not  for  murder,"  said  Sheila  evenly, 
unable  to  keep  a  quiver  of  triumph  out  of 
her  voice. 

"  Not? "  said  Langford,  startled.  "  Why 
not?" 

"  Because,"  returned  Sheila,  enjoying 
the  sudden  consternation  that  was  revealed 
in  her  father's  face,  and  drawling  her  words 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  285 

a  little  to  further  confound  him;  "because 
Doubler  isn't  dead." 

"Not  dead!"  Langford's  jaws  sagged, 
,  and  he  sat  looking  at  Sheila  with  wide, 
,  staring,  vacuous  eyes.  "Not  dead?"  he 
repeated  hoarsely.  "  Why,  Duncan  told  me 
he  had  examined  him,  that  he  had  been  shot 
through  the  lungs  and  had  bled  to  death 
before  he  left  him !  How  do  you  know  that 
he  is  not  dead?"  he  suddenly  demanded, 
leaning  toward  her,  a  wild  hope  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  went  to  his  cabin  before  noon,"  said 
Sheila.  "  I  found  him  tying  in  the  door- 
way. He  had  been  shot  through  the  right 
side,  near  the  shoulder,  but  not  through  the 
lung,  and  he  was  still  alive.  I  dragged  him 
into  the  cabin  and  did  what  I  could  for  him. 
Then  I  started  for  the  doctor." 

"  For  the  doctor?  "  he  said  incredulously. 
"  Then  how  does  it  happen  that  you  are 
here?  You  couldn't  possibly  ride  to  Lazette 
and  return  by  this  time ! " 

"  I  believe  I  said  that  I  c  started $  for  the 
doctor,"  said  Sheila  with  a  quiet  smile.  She 
was  enjoying  his  excitement.  "  I  met  Da- 
kota on  the  trail,  and  he  went." 


286     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Langford  continued  to  stare  at  her;  it 
seemed  that  he  could  not  realize  the  truth. 
Then  suddenly  he  was  out  of  his  chair  and 
standing  over  her,  his  face  bloated  poison- 
ously,  his  eyes  ablaze  with  a  malignant  light. 

"Damn  you!"  he  shrieked.  "This  is 
what  comes  of  your  infernal  meddling! 
What  business  had  you  to  interfere?  Why 
didn't  you  let  him  die?    I've  a  notion " 

His  hands  clenched  and  unclenched  be- 
fore her  eyes,  and  she  sat  with  blanched 
face,  certain  that  he  was  about  to  attack 
her — perhaps  kill  her.  She  did  not  seem  to 
care  much,  however,  and  looked  up  into  his 
face  steadily  and  defiantly. 

After  a  moment,  however,  he  regained 
control  of  himself,  leaving  her  side  and 
pacing  rapidly  back  and  forth  in  the  office, 
cursing  bitterly. 

Curiously,  Sheila  was  not  surprised  at 
this  outburst;  she  had  rather  expected  it 
since  she  had  become  aware  of  his  real  char- 
acter. Nor  was  she  surprised  to  discover 
that  he  had  dropped  pretense  altogether — 
he  was  bound  to  do  that  sooner  or  later. 
Her  only  surprise  was  at  her  own  feelings. 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  287 

She  did  not  experience  the  slightest  con- 
cern over  him — it  was  as  though  she  were 
talking  to  a  stranger.  She  was  interested 
to  the  point  of  taking  a  grim  enjoyment 
out  of  his  confusion,  but  beyond  that  she 
was  not  interested  in  anything. 

It  made  little  difference  to  her  what  be- 
came of  Langford,  Dakota,  Duncan — any 
of  them,  except  Doubler.  She  intended  to 
return  to  the  nester's  cabin,  to  help  the  doc- 
tor make  him  comfortable — for  he  had  been 
the  only  person  in  the  country  who  had 
shown  her  any  kindness;  he  was  the  only 
one  who  had  not  wronged  her,  and  she  was 
grateful  to  him. 

Langford  was  standing  over  her  again, 
his  breath  coming  short  and  fast. 

"Where  did  you  see  Dakota?"  he  ques- 
tioned hoarsely.  "  Answer !  "  he  added, 
when  she  did  not  speak  immediately. 

"  On  the  river  trail." 

"Before  you  found  Doubler?" 

"Before,  yes — and  after.  I  met  him 
twice." 

She  discerned  his  motive  in  asking  these 
questions,  but  it  made  no  difference  to  her 


288     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

and  she  answered  truthfully.  She  did  not 
intend  to  shield  Dakota;  the  fact  that 
Doubler  had  not  been  killed  outright  did 
not  lessen  the  gravity  of  the  offense  in  her 
eyes. 

"Before  you  found  Doubler!"  Lang- 
ford's  voice  came  with  a  vicious  snap. 
"  You  met  him  coming  from  Doubler's 
cabin,  I  suppose? " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  wearily,  "  I  met  him 
coming  from  there.  I  was  on  the  trail — 
going  there — and  I  heard  the  shot.  I  know 
Dakota  killed  him." 

Langford  made  an  exclamation  of  satis- 
faction. 

"  Well,  it  isn't  so  bad,  after  all.  You'll 
have  to  be  a  witness  against  Dakota.  And 
very  likely  Doubler  will  die — probably  is 
dead  by  this  time;  will  certainly  be  dead 
before  the  Lazette  doctor  can  reach  his 
cabin.  No,  my  dear,"  he  added,  smiling  at 
Sheila,  "  it  isn't  so  bad,  after  all." 

Sheila  rose.  Her  poignant  anger  against 
him  was  equaled  only  by  her  disgust.  He 
expected  her  to  bear  witness  against  Da- 
kota ;  desired  her  to  participate  in  his  scheme 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  289 

to  fasten  upon  the  latter  the  entire  blame 
for  the  commission  of  a  crime  in  which  he 
himself  was  the  moving  factor. 

"  I  shall  not  bear  witness  against  him," 
she  told  Langford  coldly.  "  For  I  am  go- 
ing away — back  East— to-morrow.  Don't 
imagine  that  I  have  been  in  complete  igno- 
rance of  what  has  been  going  on;  that  I 
have  been  unaware  of  the  part  you  have 
played  in  the  shooting  of  Doubler.  I  have 
known  for  quite  a  long  while  that  you  had 
decided  to  have  Doubler  murdered,  and  only 
recently  I  learned  that  you  hired  Dakota  to 
kill  him.  And  this  morning,  when  I  met 
Dakota  on  the  river  trail,  he  dropped  this 
from  a  pocket  of  his  vest."  She  fumbled  at 
her  bodice  and  produced  the  signed  agree- 
ment, holding  it  out  to  him. 

As  she  expected,  he  repudiated  it,  though 
his  face  paled  a  little  as  he  read  it. 

"  This  is  a  forgery,  my  dear,"  he  said,  in 
the  old,  smooth,  even  voice  that  she  had 
grown  to  despise. 

"  No,"  she  returned  calmly,  "  it  is  not  a 
forgery.  You  forget  that  only  a  minute  ago 
you  practically  admitted  it  to  be  a  true 


290     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

agreement  by  telling  me  that  I  should  have 
allowed  Doubler  to  die.  You  are  an  accom- 
plice in  the  shooting  of  Doubler,  and  if  I  am 
compelled  to  testify  in  Dakota's  trial  I  shall 
tell  everything  I  know." 

She  watched  while  he  lighted  a  match, 
held  it  to  the  paper,  smiling  as  the  licking 
flames  consumed  it.  He  was  entirely  com- 
posed now,  and  through  the  gathering  dark- 
ness of  the  interior  of  the  office  she  saw  a 
sneer  come  into  his  face. 

"  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  asist  you  to  dis- 
continue the  associations  which  are  so  dis- 
tasteful to  you.  You  will  start  for  the  East 
immediately,  I  presume? " 

"  To-morrow,"  she  said,  "  In  the  after- 
noon. I  shall  have  my  trunks  taken  over  to 
Lazette  in  the  morning." 

"  In  the  morning?  "  said  Langford,  puz- 
zled. "  Why  not  ride  over  with  them,  in 
the  afternoon,  in  the  buckboard?" 

"  I  shall  ride  my  pony.  The  man  can  re- 
turn him."  She  took  a  step  toward  the  door, 
but  halted  before  reaching  it,  turning  to  look 
back  at  him. 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  necessary  for  me  to 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK   291 

say  good-by.  But  you  have  not  treated  me 
badly  in  the  past,  and  I  thank  you — for 
that — and  wish  you  well." 

"  Where  are  you  going? " 

Sheila  had  walked  to  the  door  and  stood 
with  one  hand  on  the  latch.  He  came  and 
stood  beside  her,  a  suppressed  excitement  in 
his  manner,  his  eyes  gleaming  brightly  in 
the  dusk  which  had  suddenly  fallen. 

"  I  think  I  told  you  that  before.  Ben 
Doubler  is  alone,  and  he  needs  care.  I  am 
going  to  him — to  stay  with  him  until  the 
doctor  arrives.  He  will  die  if  someone  does 
not  take  care  of  him." 

"  You  are  determined  to  continue  to  med- 
dle, are  you?"  he  said,  his  voice  quivering 
with  anger,  his  lips  working  strangely.  "  I 
am  sick  of  your  damned  interference.  Sick 
of  it,  I  tell  you ! "  His  voice  lowered  to  a 
harsh,  throaty  whisper.  "  You  won't  leave 
this  office  until  to-morrow  afternoon!  Do 
you  hear?  What  business  is  it  of  yours  if 
Doubler  dies?" 

Sheila  did  not  answer,  but  pressed  the 
door  latch.  His  arm  suddenly  interposed, 
his  fingers  closing  on  her  arm,  gripping  it 


292     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

so  tightly  that  she  cried  out  with  pain.  Then 
suddenly  his  fingers  were  boring  into  her 
shoulders;  she  was  twisted,  helpless  in  his 
brutal  grasp,  and  flung  bodily  into  the  chair 
beside  the  desk,  where  she  sat,  sobbing 
breathlessly. 

She  did  not  cry  out  again,  but  sat  motion- 
less, her  lips  quivering,  rubbing  her  shoul- 
ders where  his  iron  fingers  had  sunk  into  the 
flesh,  her  soul  filled  with  a  revolting  horror 
for  his  brutality. 

For  a  moment  there  was  no  movement. 
Then,  in  the  semi-darkness  she  saw  him 
leave  the  door;  watched  him  as  he  ap- 
proached a  shelf  on  which  stood  a  kerosene 
lamp,  lifted  the  chimney  and  applied  a 
match  to  the  wick.  For  an  instant  after 
replacing  the  chimney  he  stood  full  in  the 
glare  of  light,  his  face  contorted  with  rage, 
his  eyes  gleaming  with  venom. 

"  Now  you  know  exactly  where  I  stand, 
you — you  huzzy !  "  he  said,  grinning  satyr- 
ically  as  she  winced  under  the  insult.  "  I'm 
your  father,  damn  you!  Your  father — do 
you  hear?  And  I'll  not  have  you  go  back 
East  to  gab  and  gossip  about  me.    You'll 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  293 

stay  here,  and  you'll  bear  witness  against 
Dakota,  and  you'll  keep  quiet  about  me ! " 
He  was  trembling  horribly  as  he  came  close 
to  her,  and  his  breath  was  coughing  in  his 
throat  shrilly. 

"I  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind!" 
Sheila  got  to  her  feet,  and  stood,  rigid  with 
anger,  her  eyes  flaming  defiance.  "I  am 
going  to  Doubler's  cabin  this  minute,  and 
if  you  molest  me  again  I  shall  go  to  the 
sheriff  with  my  story!  " 

He  seemed  about  to  attack  her  again,  and 
his  hands  were  raised  as  though  to  grasp  her 
throat,  when  there  came  a  sound  at  the  door, 
it  swung  open,  and  Dakota  stepped  in,  clos- 
ing the  door  behind  him. 

Dakota's  face  was  white — white  as  it  had 
been  that  other  dajr  at  the  quicksand 
crossing  when  Sheila  had  looked  up  to  see 
him  sitting  on  his  pony,  watching  her. 
There  was  an  entire  absence  of  excitement 
in  his  manner,  though ;  no  visible  sign  to  tell 
that  what  he  had  seen  on  entering  the  cabin 
disturbed  him  in  the  least.  Yet  the  white- 
ness of  his  face  belied  this  apparent  compos- 
ure.   It  seemed  to  Sheila  that  his  eyes  be- 


294     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

trayed  the  strong  emotion  that  was  gripping 
him. 

She  retreated  to  the  chair  beside  the  desk 
and  sank  into  it.  Langford  had  wheeled 
and  was  now  facing  Dakota,  a  shallow  smile 
on  his  face. 

There  was  a  smile  on  Dakota's  face,  too; 
a  mysterious,  cold,  prepared  grin  that  fasci- 
nated Sheila  as  she  watched  him.  The  smile 
faded  a  Jiittle  when  he  spoke  to  Langford, 
his  voice  vibrating,  as  though  he  had  been 
running. 

"  When  you're  fighting  a  woman,  Lang- 
ford, you  ought  to  make  sure  there  isn't  a 
man  around! " 

Mingling  with  Sheila's  recognition  of  the 
obvious  and  admirable  philosophy  of  this 
statement  was  a  realization  that  Dakota 
must  have  been  riding  hard.  There  was 
much  dust  on  his  clothing,  the  scarf  at  his 
neck  was  thick  with  it;  it  streaked  his  face, 
his  voice  was  husky,  his  lips  dry. 

Langford  did  not  answer  him,  stepping 
back  against  the  desk  and  regarding  him 
with  a  mirthless,  forced  smile  which,  Sheila 
was  certain,  he  had  assumed  in  order  to  con- 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK   295 

ceal  his  fear  of  the  man  who  stood  before 
him. 

"  So  you  haven't  got  any  thoughts  just  at 
this  minute,"  said  Dakota  with  cold  insinu- 
ation. "  You  are  one  of  those  men  who  can 
talk  bravely  enough  to  women,  but  who  can't 
think  of  anything  exactly  proper  for  a  man 
to  hear.  Well,  you'll  do  your  talking  later." 
He  looked  at  Shelia,  ignoring  Langford 
completely. 

"  I  expect  you've  been  wondering,  ma'am, 
why  I'm  here,  when  I  ought  to  be  over  at 
the  Two  Forks,  trying  to  do  something  for 
Doubler.  But  the  doctor's  there,  taking 
care  of  him.  The  reason  I've  come  is  that 
I've  found  this  in  Doubler's  cabin."  He 
drew  out  the  memoranda  which  Sheila  had 
placed  on  the  shelf  in  the  cabin,  holding  it 
up  so  that  she  might  see. 

"  You  took  my  vest,"  he  went  on.  "  And 
I  was  looking  for  it.  I  found  it  all  right, 
but  something  was  missing.  You're  the 
only  one  who  has  been  to  Doubler's  cabin 
since  I  left  there,  I  expect,  and  it  must  have 
been  you  who  opened  this  book.  It  isn't  in 
the  same  shape  it  was  when  you  pulled  it  off 


296     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

me  when  I  was  talking  to  you  down  there 
on  the  river  trail — something  has  been  taken 
out  of  it,  a  paper.  That's  why  I  rode  over 
here — to  see  if  you'd  got  it.  Have  you, 
ma'am? " 

Sheila  pointed  mutely  to  the  floor,  where 
a  bit  of  thin,  crinkled  ash  was  all  that  re- 
mained of  the  signed  agreement. 

"  Burned!  "  said  Dakota  sharply. 

He  caught  Sheila's  nod  and  questioned 
coldly : 

"  Who  burned  it?  " 

"My — Mr.  Langford,"  returned  Sheila. 

"  You  found  it  and  showed  it  to  him,  and 
he  burned  it,"  said  Dakota  slowly.  "  Why?  " 

"  Don't  you  see?  "  Sheila's  eyes  mocked 
Langford  as  she  intercepted  his  gaze,  which 
had  been  fixed  on  Dakota.  "  It  was  evidence 
against  him,"  she  concluded,  indicating  her 
father. 

"  I  reckon  I  see."  The  smile  was  entirely 
gone  out  of  Dakota's  face  now,  and  as  he 
turned  to  look  at  Langford  there  was  an 
expression  in  his  eyes  which  chilled  the 
latter. 

"You've    flunked    on    the    agreement. 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK   297 

You've  burned  it — won't  recognize  it,  eh? 
Well,  I'm  not  any  surprised." 

Langford  had  partially  recovered  from 
the  shock  occasioned  by  Dakota's  unex- 
pected appearance,  and  he  shook  his  head  in 
emphatic,  brazen  denial. 

"  There  was  no  agreement  between  us, 
my  friend,"  he  said.  "  The  paper  I  burned 
was  a  forgery." 

Dakota's  lips  hardened,  "  You  called  me 
your  friend  once  before,  Langford,"  he  said 
coldly.  "  Don't  do  it  again  or  I'll  forget 
that  you  are  Sheila's  father.  I  reckon  she 
has  told  you  about  Doubler.  That's  why  I 
came  over  here  to  get  the  paper,  for  I  knew 
that  if  you  got  hold  of  it  you'd  make  short 
work  of  it.  I  know  something  else."  He 
took  a  step  forward  and  tried  to  hold  Lang- 
ford's  gaze,  his  own  eyes  filled  with  a  snap- 
ping menace.  "  I  know  that  you've  sent 
Duncan  to  Lazette  for  the  sheriff.  The 
doctor  told  me  he'd  met  him, — Duncan — 
and  the  doctor  says  Duncan  told  him  that 
you'd  said  that  I  fixed  Doubler.  How  do 
you  know  I  did?" 

"  Duncan  saw  you,"  said  Langford. 


298     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Dakota's  lips  curled.  "  Duncan  tell  you 
that? "  he  questioned. 

At  Langford's  nod  he  laughed  harshly. 
"  So  it's  a  plant,  eh?  "  he  said,  with  a  mirth- 
less chuckle.  "  You  are  figuring  to  get  two 
birds  with  one  stone — Doubler  and  me. 
You've  already  got  Doubler,  or  think  you 
have,  and  now  it's  my  turn.  It  does  look 
pretty  bad  for  me,  for  a  fact,  doesn't  it? 
You've  burned  the  agreement  you  made 
with  me,  so  that  you  could  slip  out  of  your 
obligation.  I  reckon  you  think  that  after 
the  sheriff  gets  me  you'll  be  able  to  take  the 
Star  without  any  trouble — like  you  expect 
to  take  Doubler's  land. 

"  You've  got  Duncan  to  swear  that  he 
saw  me  do  for  Doubler,  and  you've  got  your 
daughter  to  testify  that  she  saw  me  on  the 
trail,  coming  from  Doubler's  cabin  right 
after  she  heard  the  shooting.  It  was  a  right 
clever  scheme,  but  it  was  my  fault  for  let- 
ting you  get  anything  on  me — I  ought  to 
have  known  that  you'd  try  some  dog's  trick 
or  other." 

His  voice  was  coming  rapidly,  sharply, 
and  was  burdened  with  a  lashing  sarcasm. 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  299 

"  Yes,  it's  a  right  clever  scheme,  Mister 
Langford,  and  it  ought  to  be  successful. 
But  there's  one  thing  you've  forgot.  I've 
lived  too  long  in  this  country  to  let  anyone 
tangle  me  up  like  you'd  like  to  have  me. 
When  a  man  gets  double  crossed  in  this 
country,  he  can't  go  to  the  law  for  redress — 
he  makes  his  own  laws.  I'm  making  mine. 
You've  double  crossed  me,  and  damn  your 
hide,  I'm  going  to  send  you  over  the  divide 
in  a  hurry! " 

One  of  his  heavy  revolvers  leaped  from 
its  holster  and  showed  for  an  instant  in  his 
right  hand.  Sheila  had  been  watching 
closely,  forewarned  by  Dakota's  manner, 
and  when  she  saw  his  right  hand  drop  to  the 
holster  she  sprang  upon  him,  catching  the 
weapon  by  the  muzzle. 

Langford  had  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  and  stood  beside  the  desk,  trembling, 
and  Sheila  cried  aloud  in  protest  when  she 
saw  Dakota  draw  the  weapon  that  swung 
at  his  other  hip,  holding  her  off  with  the 
hand  which  she  had  seized.  But  when  Da- 
kota saw  Langf ord's  hands  go  to  his  face  he 
hesitated,  smiling  scornfully.    He  turned  to 


300    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila,  looking  down  at  her  face  close  to  his, 
his  smile  softening. 

"  I  forgot,"  he  said  gently;  "  I  forgot  he 
is  your  father." 

"  It  isn't  that,"  she  said.  "  He  isn't  my 
father,  any  more.  But — "  she  looked  at 
Dakota  pleadingly — "  please  don't  shoot 
him.  Go — leave  the  country.  You  have 
plenty  of  time.  You  have  enough  to  answer 
for.    Please  go ! " 

For  answer  he  grasped  her  by  the  shoul- 
ders, swinging  her  around  so  that  she  faced 
him, — as  he  had  forced  her  to  face  him  that 
day  on  the  river  trail — and  there  was  a  re- 
gretful, admiring  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  told  him — "  he  jerked  a  thumb  to- 
ward Langford — "that  you  wouldn't  bear 
witness  against  me.  I  heard  you.  You're  a 
true  blue  girl,  and  your  father's  a  fool  or  he 
wouldn't  lose  you,  like  he  is  going  to  lose 
you.  If  I  had  you  I  would  take  mighty 
good  care  that  you  didn't  get  away  from  me. 
You've  given  me  some  mighty  good  advice, 
and  I  would  act  on  it  if  I  was  guilty  of  shoot- 
ing Doubler.  But  I  didn't  shoot  him — 
your  father  and  Duncan  have  framed  up  on 


LANGFORD  LAYS  OFF  MASK  301 

me.  Doubler  isn't  dead  yet,  and  so  I'm  not 
running  away.  If  Doubler  had  someone  to 
nurse  him,  he  might — "  He  hesitated  and 
looked  at  her  with  a  strange  smile.  "  You 
think  I  shot  Doubler,  too,  don't  you?  Well, 
there's  a  chance  that  if  we  can  get  Doubler 
revived  he  can  tell  who  did  shoot  him.  Do 
you  want  to  know  the  truth?  I  heard  you 
say  a  while  ago,  while  I  was  standing  at  the 
window,  looking  in  at  your  father  giving  a 
demonstration  of  his  love  for  you,  that  you 
intended  going  over  to  Doubler's  shack  to 
nurse  him.  If  you're  still  of  the  same  mind, 
I'll  take  you  over  there." 

Sheila  was  at  the  door  in  an  instant,  but 
halted  on  the  threshold  to  listen  to  Dakota's 
parting  word  to  Langford. 

"  Mister  man,"  he  said  enigmatically, 
"  there's  just  one  thing  that  I  want  to  say  to 
you.  There's  a  day  coming  when  you'll 
think  thoughts — plenty  of  them." 

In  a  flash  he  had  stepped  outside  the  door 
and  closed  it  after  him. 

A  few  minutes  later,  still  standing  beside 
the  desk,  Langford  heard  the  rapid  beat  of 
hoofs  on  the  hard  sand  of  the  corral  yard. 


302    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Faint  they  became,  and  their  rhythmic  beat 
faster,  until  they  died  away  entirely.  But 
Dakota's  words  still  lingered  in  Langford's 
mind,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  they  con- 
veyed a  prophecy. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  PARTING  ON  THE  RIVER  TRAIL 

4  4  TT 'LL  be  leaving  you  now,  ma'am" 
There  was  a  good  moon,  and  its  mel- 
low light  streamed  full  into  Da- 
kota's grim,  travel-stained  face  as  he  halted 
his  pony  on  the  crest  of  a  slope  above  the 
Two  Forks  and  pointed  out  a  light  that 
glimmered  weakly  through  the  trees  on  a 
level  some  distance  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river. 

"There's  Doubler's  cabin — where  you 
see  that  light,"  he  continued,  speaking  to 
Sheila  in  a  low  voice.  "  You've  been  there 
before,  and  you  won't  get  lost  going  the  rest 
of  the  way  alone.  Do  what  you  can  for 
Doubler.  I'm  going  down  to  my  shack. 
I've  done  a  heap  of  riding  to-day,  and  I 
don't  feel  exactly  like  I  want  to  keep  going 
on,  unless  it's  important.  Besides,  maybe 
Doubler  will  get  along  a  whole  lot  better  if 
I  don't  hang  around  there.  At  least,  he'll 
do  as  well." 

80S 


304    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  had  turned  her  head  from  him.  He 
was  exhibiting  a  perfectly  natural  aversion 
toward  visiting  the  man  he  had  nearly  killed, 
she  assured  herself  with  a  shudder,  and  she 
felt  no  pity  for  him.  He  had  done  her  a 
service,  however,  in  appearing  at  the  Double 
R  at  a  most  opportune  time,  and  she  was 
grateful.  Therefore  she  lingered,  finding  it 
hard  to  choose  words. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  finally  said. 

"  Thank  you,"  He  maneuvered  his  pony 
until  the  moonlight  streamed  in  her  face.  "  I 
reckon  you've  got  the  same  notion  as  your 
father — that  I  shot  Doubler?"  he  said, 
watching  her  narrowly.  "  You  are  willing 
to  take  Duncan's  word  for  it?" 

"  Duncan's  word,  and  the  agreement 
which  I  found  in  the  pocket  of  your  vest," 
she  returned,  without  looking  at  him,  "  I 
suppose  that  is  proof  enough? " 

"  Well,"  he  said  with  a  bitter  laugh,  "  it 
does  look  bad  for  me,  for  a  fact.  I  can't 
deny  that.  And  I  don't  blame  you  for  think- 
ing as  you  do.  But  you  heard  what  I  told 
your  father  about  the  shooting  of  Doubler 
being  a  plant." 


PARTING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL     305 

"A  plant?" 

"  A  scheme,  a  plot — to  make  an  innocent 
man  seem  guilty.  That  is  what  has  been 
done  with  me.  I  didn't  shoot  Doubler.  I 
wouldn't  shoot  him." 

She  looked  at  him  now,  unbelief  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Of  course  you  would  deny  it,"  she  said. 

"  Well,"  he  said  resignedly,  "  I  reckon 
that's  all.  I  can't  say  that  I  expected  any- 
thing else.  I've  done  some  things  in  my 
life  that  I've  regretted,  but  I've  never  told  a 
lie  when  the  truth  would  do  as  well.  There 
is  no  reason  now  why  I  should  lie,  and  so  I 
want  you  to  know  that  I  am  telling  the  truth 
when  I  say  that  I  didn't  shoot  Doubler. 
Won't  you  believe  me? " 

"  No,"  she  returned,  unaffected  by  the 
earnestness  in  his  voice.  "  You  were  at 
Doubler's  cabin  when  I  heard  the  shot — I 
met  you  on  the  trail.  You  killed  that  man, 
Blanca,  over  in  Lazette,  for  nothing.  You 
didn't  need  to  kill  him ;  you  shot  him  in  pure 
wantonness.  But  you  killed  Doubler  for 
money.  You  would  have  killed  my  father 
had  I  not  been  there  to  prevent  you.    Per- 


306     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

haps  you  can't  help  killing  people.  You 
have  my  sympathy  on  that  account,  and  I 
hope  that  in  time  you  will  do  better — will 
reform.    But  I  don't  believe  you." 

"  You  forgot  to  mention  one  other  crime," 
he  reminded  her  in  a  low  voice,  not  without 
a  trace  of  sarcasm. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  it.  I  will  never 
forget  it.  But  I  forgive  you,  for  in  com- 
parison to  your  other  crimes  your  sin  against 
me  was  trivial — though  it  was  great  enough." 

Again  his  bitter  laugh  reached  her  ears. 
"  I  thought,"  he  began,  and  then  stopped 
short.  "  Well,  I  reckon  it  doesn't  make 
much  difference  what  I  thought.  I  would 
have  to  tell  you  many  things  before  you 
would  understand,  and  even  then  I  suppose 
you  wouldn't  believe  me.  So  I  am  keeping 
quiet  until — until  the  time  comes.  Maybe 
that  won't  be  so  long,  and  then  you'll  un- 
derstand.    I'll  be  seeing  you  again." 

"  I  am  leaving  this  country  to-morrow," 
she  informed  him  coldly. 

She  saw  him  start  and  experienced  a  sen- 
sation of  vindictive  satisfaction. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  a  queer  note  of  re- 


PARTING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL     307 

gret  in  his  voice,  "that's  too  bad.  But  I 
reckon  I'll  be  seeing  you  again  anyway,  if 
the  sheriff  doesn't  get  me." 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  come  for  you  to- 
night?" she  asked,  suddenly  remembering 
that  her  father  had  told  her  that  Duncan 
had  gone  to  Lazette  for  the  sheriff.  "  What 
will  they  do?" 

"  Nothing,  I  reckon.  That  is,  they  won't 
do  anything  except  take  me  into  custody. 
They  can't  do  anything  until  Doubler  dies." 

"If  he  doesn't  die?"  she  said.  "What 
can  they  do  then?  " 

"  Usually  it  isn't  considered  a  crime  to 
shoot  a  man — if  he  doesn't  die.  Likely  they 
wouldn't  do  anything  to  me  if  Doubler  gets 
well.  They  might  want  me  to  leave  the 
country.  But  I  don't  reckon  that  I'm  go- 
ing to  let  them  take  me — whether  Doubler 
dies  or  not.  Once  they've  got  a  man  it's 
pretty  easy  to  prove  him  guilty — in  this 
country.  Usually  they  hang  a  man  and 
consider  the  evidence  afterward.  I'm  not 
letting  them  do  that  to  me.  If  I  was  guilty, 
I  suppose  I  might  look  at  it  differently,  but 
maybe  not." 


308    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  was  silent;  he  became  silent,  too, 
and  looked  gravely  at  her. 

"Well,"  he  said  presently,  "I'll  be  go- 
ing." He  urged  his  pony  forward,  but 
when  it  had  gone  only  a  few  steps  he  turned 
and  looked  back  at  her.  "  Do  your  best  to 
keep  Doubler  alive,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  note  of  the  old  mockery  in 
his  voice,  and  it  lingered  long  in  Sheila's 
ears  after  she  had  watched  him  vanish  into 
the  mysterious  shadows  that  surrounded  the 
trail.  Stiffling  a  sigh  of  regret  and  pity, 
she  spoke  to  her  pony,  and  the  animal 
shuffled  down  the  long  slope,  forded  the 
river,  and  so  brought  her  to  the  door  of 
Doubler's  cabin. 

The  doctor  was  there ;  he  was  bending  over 
Doubler  at  the  instant  Sheila  entered  the 
cabin,  and  he  looked  up  at  her  with  grave, 
questioning  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  to  nurse  him,"  she  informed 
the  doctor. 

"That's  good,"  he  returned  softly;  "he 
needs  lots  of  care — the  care  that  a  woman 
can  give  him. 

Then  he  went  off  into  a  maze  of  medical 
terms  and  phrases  that  left  her  confused, 


PARTING  ON  RIVER  TRAIL    309 

but  out  of  which  she  gathered  the  fact  that 
the  bullet  had  missed  a  vital  spot,  that  Doub- 
ler  was  suffering  more  from  shock  than 
from  real  injury,  and  that  the  only  danger 
— his  constitution  being  strong  enough  to 
withstand  the  shock — would  be  from  blood 
poisoning.  He  had  some  fever,  the  doctor 
told  Sheila,  and  he  left  a  small  vial  on  a 
shelf  with  instructions  to  administer  a  num- 
ber of  drops  of  its  contents  in  a  spoonful 
of  water  if  Doubter  became  restless.  The 
bandages  were  to  be  changed  several  times 
a  day,  and  the  wound  bathed. 

The  doctor  was  glad  that  she  had  come, 
for  he  had  a  very  sick  patient  in  Mrs.  More- 
land,  and  he  must  return  to  her  immediately. 
He  would  try  to  look  in  in  a  day  or  two. 
No,  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  question,  she 
could  not  leave  Doubter  to-morrow,  even 
to  go  home — if  she  wanted  the  patient  to  get 
well. 

And  so  Sheila  watched  him  as  he  went 
out  and  saddled  his  horse  and  rode  away 
down  the  river  trail.  Then  with  a  sigh  she 
returned  to  the  cabin,  closed  the  door,  and 
took  up  her  vigil  beside  the  nester. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SHERIFF   ALLEN    TAKES   A   HAND 

THE  sheriff's  posse — three  men  whom 
he  had  deputized  in  Lazette  and  him- 
self—had ridden  hard  over  the  twenty- 
miles  of  rough  trail  from  Lazette,  for  Dun- 
can had  assured  Allen  that  he  would  have 
to  get  into  action  before  Dakota  could  dis- 
cover that  there  had  been  a  witness  to  his 
deed,  and  therefore  when  they  arrived  at  the 
edge  of  the  clearing  near  Dakota's  cabin  at 
midnight,  they  were  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  dismount  and  stretch  themselves. 

There  was  no  light  in  Dakota's  cabin,  no 
sign  that  the  man  the  sheriff  was  after  was 
anywhere  about,  and  the  latter  consulted 
gravely  with  his  men. 

"  This  ain't  going  to  be  any  picnic,  boys," 
he  said.  "  We've  got  to  take  our  time  and 
keep  our  eyes  open.  Dakota  ain't  no  spring 
chicken,  and  if  he  don't  want  to  come  with 

310 


SHERIFF  TAKES  A  HAND     311 

us  peaceable,  he'll  make  things  plumb  lively." 
A  careful  examination  of  the  horses  in 
the  corral  resulted  in  the  discovery  of  one 
which  had  evidently  been  ridden  hard  and 
unsaddled  but  a  few  minutes  before,  for 
its  flanks  were  in  a  lather  and  steam  rose 
from  its  sides. 

However,  the  discovery  of  the  pony  told 
the  sheriff  nothing  beyond  the  fact  that  Da- 
kota had  ridden  to  the  cabin  from  some- 
where, some  time  before.  Whether  he  was 
asleep,  or  watching  the  posse  from  some 
vantage  point  within  or  outside  of  the  cabin 
was  not  quite  clear.  Therefore  Allen,  the 
sheriff,  a  man  of  much  experience,  advised 
caution.  After  another  careful  reconnoiter, 
which  settled  beyond  all  reasonable  doubt 
the  fact  that  Dakota  was  not  secreted  in  the 
timber  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cabin,  Allen 
told  his  deputies  to  remain  concealed  on  the 
edge  of  the  clearing,  while  he  proceeded 
boldly  to  the  door  of  the  cabin  and  knocked 
loudly.  He  and  Dakota  had  always  been 
very  friendly. 

At  the  sound  of  the  knock,  Dakota's  voice 
came  from  within  the  cabin,  burdened  with 
mockery. 


312     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Sorry,  Allen,"  it  said,  "  but  I'm  locked 
up  for  the  night.  Can't  take  any  chances 
on  leaving  my  door  unbarred — can't  tell 
who's  prowling  around.  If  you'd  sent 
word,  now,  so  I  would  have  had  time  to  dress 
decently,  I  might  have  let  you  in,  seeing  it's 
you.    I'm  sure  some  sorry." 

"  Sorry,  too."  Allen  grinned  at  the  door. 
"  I  told  the  boys  you'd  be  watching.  Well, 
it  can't  be  helped,  I  reckon.  Only,  I'd  like 
mighty  well  to  see  you.  Coming  out  in  the 
morning? " 

"  Maybe.  Missed  my  beauty  sleep  al- 
ready." His  voice  was  dryly  sarcastic. 
"  It's  too  bad  you  rode  this  far  for  nothing; 
can't  even  get  a  look  at  me.  But  it's  no 
time  to  visit  a  man,  anyway.  You  and  your 
boys  flop  outside.  We'll  swap  palaver  in 
the  morning.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night." 

Allen  returned  to  the  edge  of  the  clear- 
ing, where  he  communicated  to  his  men  the 
result  of  the  conference. 

"  He  ain't  allowing  that  he  wants  to  be 
disturbed  just  now,"  he  told  them.  "  And 
he's   too   damned   polite  to   monkey  with. 


SHERIFF  TAKES  A  HAND     313 

We'll  wait.  Likely  he'll  change  his  mind 
over-night." 

"  Wait  nothing,"  growled  Duncan.  "  Bust 
the  door  in! " 

Allen  grinned  mildly.  "  Good  advice," 
he  said  quietly.  "  Me  and  my  men  will  set 
here  while  you  do  the  busting.  Don't  im- 
agine that  we'll  be  sore  because  you  take  the 
lead  in  such  a  little  matter  as  that." 

"  If  I  was  the  sheriff "  began  Duncan. 

"  Sure,"  interrupted  Allen  with  a  dry 
laugh ;  "  if  you  was  the  sheriff.  There's  a 
lot  of  things  we'd  do  if  we  was  somebody 
else.  Maybe  breaking  down  Dakota's  door 
is  one  of  them.  But  we  don't  want  anyone 
killed  if  we  can  help  it,  and  it's  a  dead  sure 
thing  that  some  one  would  cash  in  if  we  tried 
any  monkey  business  with  that  door.  If 
you're  wanting  to  do  something  that 
amounts  to  something  to  help  this  game 
along,  swap  your  cayuse  for  one  of  Dakota's 
and  hit  the  breeze  to  the  Double  R  for  grub. 
We'll  be  needing  it  by  the  time  you  get 
back." 

Duncan  had  already  ridden  over  sixty 
miles  within  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  and 


314    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

he  made  a  grumbling  rejoinder.  But  in  the 
end  he  roped  one  of  Dakota's  horses,  sad- 
dled it,  and  presently  vanished  in  the  dark- 
ness. Allen  and  his  men  built  a  fire  near 
the  edge  of  the  clearing  and  rolled  into  their 
blankets. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  following  morning, 
Langford  appeared  on  the  river  trail,  lead- 
ing a  pack  horse  loaded  with  provisions  and 
cooking  utensils  for  the  sheriff  and  his  men. 
Duncan,  Langford  told  Allen  while  they 
breakfasted,  had  sought  his  bunk,  being 
tired  from  the  day's  activities. 

"You're  the  owner  of  the  Double  R?" 
questioned  Allen. 

"  You  and  Dakota  friendly? "  he  ques- 
tioned again,  noting  Langford's  nod. 

"  We've  been  quite  friendly,"  smiled 
Langford. 

"But  you  ain't  now?" 

"Not  since  this  has  happened.  We  must 
have  law  and  order,  even  at  the  price  of 
friendship." 

Allen  squinted  a  mildly  hostile  eye  at 
Langford.  "  That's  a  good  principle  to  get 
back  of — for  a  weak-kneed  friendship.  But 


SHERIFF  TAKES  A  HAND     315 

most  men  who  have  got  friends  wouldn't  let 
a  little  thing  like  law  and  order  interfere 
between  them." 

Langford  reddened.  "  I  haven't  known 
Dakota  long  of  course,"  he  defended. 
"  Perhaps  I  erred  in  saying  we  were  friends. 
Acquaintances  would  better  describe  it  I 
think." 

Allen's  eye  narrowed  again  with  an  emo- 
tion that  Langford  could  not  fathom.  "  I 
always  had  a  heap  of  faith  in  Dakota's  judg- 
ment," he  said.  And  then,  when  Langford's 
face  flushed  with  a  realization  of  the  subtle 
insult,  Allen  said  gruffly: 

"  You  say  Doubler's  dead?" 

"  I  don't  remember  to  have  said  that  to 
you,"  returned  Langford,  his  voice  snap- 
ping with  rage.  "  What  I  did  say  was  that 
Duncan  saw  him  killed  and  came  to  me  with 
the  news.  I  sent  him  for  you.  Since  then 
my  daughter  has  been  over  to  Doubler's 
cabin.  He  is  quite  dead,  she  reported,"  he 
lied.  "  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  his  guilt, 
if  that  is  what  bothers  you,"  he  continued. 
"  Duncan  saw  him  shoot  Doubler  in  the  back 
with  Doubler's  own  rifle,  and  my  daughter 


316    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

heard  the  shot  and  met  Dakota  coming  from 
Doubler's  cabin,  immediately  after.  It's  a 
clear  case,  it  seems  to  me," 

"  Yes,  clear,"  said  Allen,  "  The  evidence 
is  all  against  him." 

Yet  it  was  not  all  quite  clear  to  Langford, 
To  be  sure,  he  had  expected  to  receive  news 
that  Dakota  had  accomplished  the  destruc- 
tion of  Doubler,  but  he  had  not  anticipated 
the  fortunate  appearance  of  Duncan  at  the 
nester's  cabin  during  the  commission  of  the 
murder,  nor  had  he  expected  Sheila  to  be 
near  the  scene  of  the  crime.  It  had  turned 
out  better  than  he  had  planned,  for  since 
he  had  burned  the  agreement  that  he  had 
made  with  Dakota,  the  latter  had  no  hold 
on  him  whatever,  and  if  it  were  finally 
proved  that  he  had  committed  the  crime 
there  would  come  an  end  to  both  Dakota 
and  Doubler. 

Only  one  thing  puzzled  him.  Dakota 
had  been  to  his  place,  he  knew  that  he  was 
charged  with  the  murder  and  that  the  agree- 
ment had  been  burned.  He  also  knew  that 
Duncan  and  Sheila  would  bear  witness 
against  him.     And  yet,  though  he  had  had 


SHERIFF  TAKES  A  HAND     317 

an  opportunity  to  escape,  he  had  not  done 
so.     Why  not? 

He  put  this  interrogation  to  Allen,  care- 
fully avoiding  reference  to  anything  which 
would  give  the  sheriff  any  idea  that  he  pos- 
sessed any  suspicion  that  Dakota  was  not 
really  guilty. 

"  That's  what's  bothering  me ! "  declared 
the  latter.  "He's  had  time  enough  to  hit 
the  breeze  clear  out  of  the  Territory. 
Though,"  he  added,  squinting  at  Langford, 
"  Dakota  ain't  never  been  much  on  the  run. 
He'd  a  heap  rather  face  the  music.  Damn 
the  cuss !  "  he  exploded  impatiently. 

He  finished  his  breakfast  in  silence,  and 
then  again  approached  the  door  of  Dakota's 
cabin,  knocking  loudly,  as  before. 

"  I'm  wanting  that  palaver  now,  Dakota," 
he  said  coaxingly. 

He  heard  Dakota  laugh.  "  Have  you 
viewed  the  corpse,  Allen?"  came  his  voice, 
burdened  with  mockery. 

"  No,"  said  Allen. 

"  You're  a  hell  of  a  sheriff — wanting  to 
take  a  man  when  you  don't  know  whether 
he's  done  anything." 


318    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"I  reckon  you  ain't  fooling  me  none," 
said  Allen  slowly.  The  evidence  is  dead 
against  you." 

"What  evidence?" 

"  Duncan  saw  you  fixing  Doubler,  and 
Langford's  daughter  met  you  coming  from 
his  cabin." 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"  Langford.  He's  just  brought  some 
grub  over." 

The  silence  that  followed  Allen's  words 
lasted  long,  and  the  sheriff  fidgeted  impa- 
tiently. When  he  again  spoke  there  was  the 
sharpness  of  intolerance  in  his  voice. 

"  If  talking  to  you  was  all  I  had  to  do, 
I  might  monkey  around  here  all  summer," 
he  said.  "  I've  give  you  about  eight  hours 
to  think  this  thing  over,  and  that's  plenty 
long  enough.  I  don't  like  to  get  into  any 
gun  argument  with  you,  because  I  know  that 
somebody  will  get  hurt.  Why  in  hell  don't 
you  surrender  decently?  I'm  a  friend  of 
yours  and  you  hadn't  ought  to  want  to  make 
any  trouble  for  me.  And  them's  good  boys 
that  I've  got  over  there  and  I  wouldn't  want 
to  see  any  of  them  perforated.     And  I'd 


SHERIFF  TAKES  A  HAND     319 

hate  like  blazes  to  have  to  put  you  out  of 
business.  Why  don't  you  act  decent  and 
come  out  like  a  man?  " 

"  Go  and  look  at  the  corpse/5  insisted  Da- 
kota. 

"  There'll  be  plenty  of  time  to  look  at  the 
corpse  after  you're  took." 

There  was  no  answer.  Allen  sighed  re- 
gretfully. "  Well,"  he  said  presently,  "  I've 
done  what  I  could.  From  now  on,  I'm  look- 
ing for  you." 

"  Just  a  minute,  Allen,"  came  Dakota's 
voice.  To  Allen's  surprise  he  heard  a  fum- 
bling at  the  fastenings  of  the  door,  and  an 
instant  later  it  swung  open  and  Dakota  stood 
in  the  opening,  one  of  his  six-shooters  in 
hand. 

"  I  reckon  I  know  you  well  enough  to  be 
tolerably  sure  that  you'll  get  me  before  you 
leave  here,"  he  said,  as  Allen  wheeled  and 
faced  him,  his  arms  folded  over  his  chest  as 
a  declaration  of  his  present  peaceful  inten- 
tions. "  But  I  want  you  to  get  this  busi- 
ness straight  before  anything  is  started. 
And  then  you'll  be  responsible.  I'm  giving 
it  to  you  straight.     Somebody's  framed  up 


320     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

on  me.  I  didn't  shoot  Doubler.  When  I 
left  him  he  was  cleaning  his  rifle.  After 
I  left  him  I  heard  shooting.  I  thought  it 
was  him  trying  his  rifle,  or  I  would  have 
gone  back. 

"  Then  I  met  Sheila  Langford  on  the 
river  trail,  near  the  cabin.  She'd  heard  the 
shooting,  too.  She  thinks  I  did  it.  You 
think  I  did  it,  and  Duncan  says  he  saw 
me  do  it.  Doubler  isn't  dead.  At  least  he 
wasn't  dead  when  I  left  the  doctor  with  him 
at  sundown.  But  he  wasn't  far  from  it, 
and  if  he  dies  without  coming  to  it's  likely 
that  things  will  look  bad  for  me.  But  be- 
cause I  knew  he  wasn't  dead  I  took  a  chance 
on  staying  here.  I  am  not  allowing  that 
I'm  going  to  let  anyone  hang  me  for  a  thing 
I  didn't  do,  and  so  if  you're  determined  to 
get  me  without  making  sure  that  Doubler's 
going  to  have  mourners  immediately,  it's  a 
dead  sure  thing  that  some  one's  going  to  get 
hurt.  I  reckon  that's  all.  I've  given  you 
fair  warning,  and  after  you  get  back  to  the 
edge  of  the  clearing  our  friendship  don't 
count  any  more." 

He  stepped  back  and  closed  the  door. 


SHERIFF  TAKES  A  HAND     321 

Allen  walked  slowly  toward  the  clearing, 
thinking  seriously.  He  said  nothing  to 
Langford  or  his  men  concerning  his  conver- 
sation with  Dakota,  and  though  he  covertly 
questioned  the  former  he  could  discover 
nothing  more  than  that  which  the  Double 
R  owner  had  already  told  him.  Several 
times  during  the  morning  he  was  on  the 
point  of  planning  an  attack  on  the  cabin, 
but  Dakota's  voice  had  a  ring  of  truth  in  it 
and  he  delayed  action,  waiting  for  some  more 
favorable  turn  of  events. 

And  so  the  hours  dragged.  The  men 
lounged  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  and  talked ; 
Lan£pord — though  he  had  no  further  ex- 
cuse for  staying — remained,  concealing  his 
impatience  over  Allen's  inaction  by  taking 
short  rides,  but  always  returning;  Allen, 
taciturn,  morose  even,  paid  no  attention  to 
him. 

The  afternoon  waned ;  the  sun  descended 
to  the  peaks  of  the  mountains,  and  there  was 
still  inaction  on  Allen's  part,  still  silence 
from  the  cabin.  Just  at  sundown  Allen 
called  his  men  to  him  and  told  them  to  guard 
the  cabin  closely,  not  to  shoot  unless  forced 


322    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

by  Dakota,  but  to  be  certain  that  he  did  not 
escape. 

He  said  they  might  expect  him  to  return 

by  dawn  of  the  following  morning.     Then, 

during  Langford's  absence  on  one  of  his 

ides,  he  loped  his  pony  up  the  river  trail 

toward  Ben  Doubler's  cabin. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

DOUBLER  TALKS 

AFTER  the  departure  of  the  doctor 
Sheila  entered  the  cabin  and  closed 
the  door,  fastening  the  bars  and  draw- 
ing a  chair  over  near  the  table.  Doubler 
seemed  to  be  resting  easier,  though  there 
was  a  flush  in  his  cheeks  that  told  of  the 
presence  of  fever.  However,  he  breathed 
more  regularly  and  with  less  effort  than  be- 
fore the  coming  of  the  doctor,  and  as  a  con- 
sequence, Sheila  felt  decidedly  better.  At 
intervals  during  the  night  she  gave  him 
quantities  of  the  medicine  which  the  doctor 
had  left,  but  only  when  the  fever  seemed  to 
increase,  forcing  the  liquid  through  his  lips. 
Several  times  she  changed  the  bandages, 
and  once  or  twice  during  the  night  when  he 
moaned  she  pulled  her  chair  over  beside  him 
and  smoothed  his  forehead,  soothing  him. 

328 


324     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

When  the  dawn  came  it  found  her  heavy- 
eyed  and  tired. 

She  went  to  the  river  and  procured  fresh 
water,  washed  her  hands  and  face,  prepared 
a  breakfast  of  bacon  and  soda  biscuit* — 
which  she  found  in  a  tin  box  in  a  corner  of 
the  cabin,  and  then,  as  Doubler  seemed  to 
be  doing  nicely,  she  saddled  her  pony  and 
took  a  short  gallop.  Returning,  she  entered 
the  cabin,  to  find  Doubler  tossing  restlessly. 

She  gave  him  a  dose  of  the  medicine — an 
extra  large  one — but  it  had  little  effect, 
quieting  him  only  momentarily.  Evidently 
he  was  growing  worse.  The  thought 
aroused  apprehension  in  her  mind,  but  she 
fought  it  down  and  stayed  resolutely  at  the 
sick  man's  side. 

Through  the  slow-dragging  hours  of  the 
morning  she  sat  beside  him,  giving  him  the 
best  care  possible  under  the  circumstances, 
but  in  spite  of  her  efforts  the  fever  steadily 
rose,  and  at  noon  he  sat  suddenly  up  in  the 
bunk  and  gazed  at  her  with  blazing,  vacuous 
eyes. 

"  You're  a  liar ! "  he  shouted.  "  Dakota's 
square!" 


DOUBLEB    TALKS  325 

Sheila  stifled  a  scream  of  fear  and  shrank 
from  him.  But  recovering,  she  went  to  him, 
seizing  his  shoulders  and  forcing  him  back 
into  the  bunk.  He  did  not  resist,  not  seem- 
ing to  pay  any  attention  to  her  at  all,  but  he 
mumbled,  inexpressively: 

"  It  ain't  so,  I  tell  you.  He's  just  left 
me,  an'  any  man  which  could  talk  like  he 
talked  to  me  ain't — I  reckon  not,"  he  said, 
shaking  his  head  with  a  vigorous,  negative 
motion ;  "  you're  a  heap  mistaken — you  ain't 
got  him  right  at  all." 

He  was  quiet  for  a  time  after  this,  but 
toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Sheila 
saw  that  his  gaze  was  following  her  as  she 
paced  softly  back  and  forth  in  the  cabin. 

"  So  you're  stuck  on  that  Langford  girl, 
are  you?  "  he  demanded,  laughing.  "  Well, 
it  won't  do  you  any  good,  Dakota,  she's — 
well,  she's  some  sore  at  you  for  something. 
She  won't  listen  to  anything  which  is  said 
about  you."  The  laughter  died  out  of  his 
eyes ;  they  became  cold  with  menace.  "  I 
ain't  listenin'  to  any  more  of  that  sorta  talk, 
I  tell  you!  I've  got  my  eyes  open.  Why!  " 
he  said  in  surprise,  starting  up,  "  he's  gone! " 


326     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

He  suddenly  shuddered  and  cursed.     "In 

the  back,"  he  said,     "  You — you "  And 

profanity  gushed  from  his  lips-  Then  he 
collapsed,  closing  his  eyes,  and  lay  silent 
and  motionless. 

Out  of  the  jumble  of  disconnected  sen- 
tences Sheila  was  able  to  gather  two  things 
of  importance — perhaps  three. 

The  first  was  that  some  one  had  told  him 
of  Dakota's  complicity  in  the  plan  to  mur- 
der him  and  that  he  refused  to  believe  his 
friend  capable  of  such  depravity.  The  sec- 
ond was  that  he  knew  who  had  shot  him ;  he 
also  knew  the  man  who  had  informed  him 
of  Dakota's  duplicity — though  this  knowl- 
edge would  amount  to  very  little  unless  he 
recovered  enough  to  be  able  to  supply  the 
missing  threads. 

Sheila  despaired  of  him  supplying  any- 
thing, for  it  seemed  that  he  was  steadily 
growing  worse,  and  when  the  dusk  came  she 
began  to  feel  a  dread  of  remaining  with  him 
in  the  cabin  during  the  night.  If  only  the 
doctor  would  return!  If  Dakota  would 
come — Duncan,  her  father,  anybody!  But 
nobody  came,  and  the  silence  around  the 


DOUBLEB    TALKS  327 

cabin  grew  so  oppressive  that  she  felt  she 
must  scream.  When  darkness  succeeded 
dusk  she  lighted  the  kerosene  lamp,  placed  a 
bar  over  the  window,  secured  the  door  fast- 
enings, and  seated  herself  at  the  table,  de- 
termined to  take  a  short  nap. 

It  seemed  that  she  had  scarcely  dropped 
off  to  sleep — though  in  reality  she  had  been 
unconscious  for  more  than  two  hours — when 
she  awoke  suddenly,  to  see  Doubler  sitting 
erect  in  the  bunk,  watching  her  with  a  wan, 
sympathetic  smile.  There  was  the  light  of 
reason  in  his  eyes  and  her  heart  gave  an  ec- 
static leap. 

"  Could  you  give  me  a  drink  of  water, 
ma'am?  "  he  said,  in  the  voice  that  she  knew 
well. 

She  sprang  to  the  pail,  to  find  that  it  con- 
tained very  little.  She  had  lifted  it,  and 
was  about  to  unfasten  the  door,  intending 
to  go  to  the  river  to  procure  fresh  water, 
when  Doubler's  voice  arrested  her. 

"  There's  some  water  there — I  can  hear  it; 
splashin':  It'll  do  well  enough  just  now.  I 
don't  want  much.  You  can  get  some  fresh 
after  a  while.    I  want  to  talk  to  you." 


328     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

She  placed  the  pail  down  and  went  over 
to  him,  standing  beside  him. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here?  I 
knowed  you  was  here  all  the  time — I  kept 
seein'  you,  but  somehow  things  was  a  little 
mixed.  But  I  know  that  you've  been  here 
quite  a  while.     How  long?  " 

"  This  is  the  second  night." 

"  You  found  me  layin'  there — in  the  door. 
I  dropped  there,  not  bein'  able  to  go  any 
further.  I  felt  you  touchin'  me — draggin' 
me.  There  was  someone  else  here,  too. 
Who  was  it?" 

"  The  doctor  and  Dakota/' 

"  Where's  Dakota  now? " 

"  At  his  cabin,  I  suppose.  He  didn't  stay 
here  long — he  left  right  after  he  brought  the 
doctor.  I  imagine  you  know  why  he  didn't 
stay.  He  was  afraid  that  you  would  recog- 
nize him  and  accuse  him." 

"  Accuse  him  of  what,  ma'am?  " 

"Of  shooting  you." 

He  smiled.  "  I  reckon,  ma'am,  that  you 
don't  understand.  It  wasn't  Dakota  that 
shot  me." 


DOUBLER   TALKS  329 


Who  did,  then?"  she  questioned  eag- 
erly.   "Who? 


VV11U     UL1U, 

"  Duncan." 


"  Why — why P  she  said,  sitting  sud- 
denly erect,  a  mysterious  elation  filling  her, 
her  eyes  wide  with  surprise  and  delight,  and 
a  fear  that  Doubler  might  have  been  mis- 
taken— "  Why,  I  saw  Dakota  on  the  river 
trail  just  after  you  were  shot." 

"He'd  just  left  me.  He  hadn't  been 
gone  more  than  ten  minutes  or  so  when  Dun- 
can rode  up — comin'  out  of  the  timber  just 
down  by  the  crick.  Likely  he'd  been  hidin' 
there.  I  was  cleanin'  my  rifle;  we  had 
words,  and  when  I  set  my  rifle  down  just 
outside  the  shack,  he  grabbed  it  an*  shot 
me.  After  that  I  don't  seem  to  remember 
a  heap,  except  that  someone  was  touchin* 
me — which  must  have  been  you." 

"  Oh ! "  she  said.     "  I  am  so  glad ! " 

She  was  thinking  now  of  Dakota's  part- 
ing words  to  her  the  night  before  on  the 
crest  of  the  slope  above  the  river, — of  his 
words,  of  the  truth  of  his  statement  denying 
his  guilt,  and  she  was  glad  that  she  had  not 
spoken  some  of > the  spiteful  things  which 


330    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

had  been  in  her  mind.  How  she  had  mis- 
judged him! 

"  I  reckon  it's  something  to  be  glad  for," 
smiled  Doubler,  misunderstanding  her  ela- 
tion, "  but  I  reckon  I  owe  it  to  you — I'd 
have  pulled  my  freight  sure,  if  you  hadn't 
come  when  you  did.  An'  I  told  you  not  to 
be  comin'  here  any  more."  He  laughed. 
"Ain't  it  odd  how  things  turn  out — some- 
times.    I'd  have  died  sure,"  he  repeated. 

"  You  are  going  to  live  a  long  while,"  she 
said.  And  then,  to  his  surprise,  she  bent 
over  and  kissed  his  forehead,  leaving  his  side 
instantly,  her  cheeks  aflame,  her  eyes  alight 
with  a  mysterious  fire.  To  conceal  her  emo- 
tion from  Doubler  she  seized  the  water  pail. 

"  I  will  get  some  fresh  water,"  she  said, 
with  a  quick,  smiling  glance  at  him.  "  You'll 
want  a  fresh  drink,  and  your  bandages  must 
be  changed." 

She  opened  the  door  and  stepped  down 
into  the  darkness. 

There  was  a  moon,  and  the  trail  to  the 
river  was  light  enough  for  her  to  see  plainly, 
but  when  she  reached  the  timber  clump  in 
which  Doubler  had  said  Duncan  had  been 


DOUBLER    TALKS  331 

hiding,  she  shuddered  and  made  a  detour  to 
avoid  passing  close  to  jUt.  This  took  her 
some  distance  out  of  her  way,  and  she  reached 
the  river  and  walked  along  its  bank  for  a 
little  distance,  searching  for  a  deep  acces- 
sible spot  into  which  she  could  dip  the  pail. 

The  shallow  crossing  over  which  she  had 
ridden  many  times  was  not  far  away,  and 
when  she  stooped  to  fill  the  pail  she  heard 
a  sudden  clatter  and  splashing,  and  looked 
up  to  see  a  horseman  riding  into  the  water 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  river. 

He  saw  her  at  the  instant  she  discovered 
him,  and  once  over  the  ford  he  turned  his 
horse  and  rode  directly  toward  her. 

After  gaining  the  bank  he  halted  his  pony 
and  looked  intently  at  her. 

"  You're  Langford's  daughter,  I  reckon," 
he  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  seeing  that  he  was 
a  stranger;  "  I  am." 

"I'm  Ben  Allen,"  he  said  shortly;  "the 
sheriff  of  this  county.  What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"  I  am  taking  care  of  Ben  Doubler,"  she 
said;  "  he  has  been " 


332    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Then  he  ain't  dead,  of  course,"  said  Al- 
len, interrupting  her.  It  seemed  to  Sheila 
that  there  was  relief  and  satisfaction  in  his 
voice,  and  she  peered  closer  at  him,  but  his 
face  was  hidden  in  the  shadow  of  his  hat 
brim. 

"  He  is  very  much  better  now,"  she  told 
him,  scarcely  able  to  conceal  her  delight. 
"  But  he  has  been  very  bad." 

"Able  to  talk?" 

"  Yes.  He  has  just  been  talking  to  me." 
She  took  a  step  toward  him,  speaking  earn- 
estly and  rapidly.  "  I  suppose  you  are 
looking  for  Dakota,"  she  said,  remembering 
what  her  father  had  told  her  about  sending 
Duncan  to  Lazette  for  the  sheriff.  "  If  you 
are  looking  for  him,  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
he  didn't  shoot  Doubler.  It  was  Duncan. 
Doubler  told  me  so  not  over  five  minutes 
ago.     He  said " 

But  Allen  had  spurred  his  pony  forward, 
and  before  she  could  finish  he  was  out  of 
hearing  distance,  riding  swiftly  toward  the 
cabin. 

Sheila  lingered  at  the  water's  edge,  for 
now  suddenly  she  saw  much  beauty  in  the 


DOUBLER   TALKS  333 

surrounding  country,  and  she  was  no  longer 
lonesome.  She  stood  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  gazing  long  at  the  shadowy  rims  of 
the  distant  mountains,  at  their  peaks,  rising 
majestically  in  the  luminous  mist  of  the 
night;  at  the  plains,  stretching  away  and 
fading  into  the  mysterious  shadows  of  the 
distance;  watching  the  waters  of  the  river, 
shimmering  like  quicksilver — a  band  of 
glowing  ribbon  winding  in  and  out  and 
around  the  moon-touched  buttes  of  the  can- 
yons. 

"  Oh! "  she  said  irrelevantly,  "  he  isn't  so 
bad,  after  all!" 

Stooping  over  again  to  fill  the  pail,  she 
heard  a  sharp  clatter  of  hoofs  behind  her. 
A  horseman  was  racing  toward  the  river — 
toward  her — bending  low  over  his  pony's 
mane,  riding  desperately.  She  placed  the 
pail  down  and  watched  him.  Apparently 
he  did  not  see  her,  for,  swerving  suddenly, 
he  made  for  the  crossing  without  slacken- 
ing speed.  He  had  almost  reached  the 
water's  edge  when  there  came  a  spurt  of 
flame  from  the  door  of  Doubler's  cabin,  fol- 
lowed by  the  sharp  whip  like  crack  of  a  rifle  1 


334    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

In  the  doorway  of  the  cabin,  clearly  out- 
lined against  the  flickering  light  of  the  in- 
terior, was  a  man.  And  as  Sheila  watched 
another  streak  of  fire  burst  from  the  door, 
and  she  heard  the  shrill  sighing  of  the  bul- 
let, heard  the  horseman  curse.  But  he  did 
not  stop  in  his  flight,  and  in  an  instant  he 
had  crossed  the  river.  She  saw  him  for  an 
instant  as  he  was  outlined  against  the  clear 
sky  in  the  moonlight  that  bathed  the  crest 
of  the  slope,  and  then  he  was  gone. 

Dropping  the  pail,  Sheila  ran  toward  the 
cabin,  fearing  that  Doubler  had  suddenly 
become  delirious  and  had  attacked  Allen. 
But  it  semed  to  her  that  it  had  not  been 
Allen  who  had  raced  away  from  the  cabin, 
and  she  had  not  gone  more  than  half  way 
toward  it  when  she  saw  another  horseman 
coming.  She  halted  to  wait  for  him,  and 
when  he  halted  and  drew  up  beside  her  she 
saw  that  it  was  the  sheriff. 

"Who  was  it?"  she  demanded,  breath- 
lessly. 

"Duncan!"  Allen  cursed  picturesquely 
and  profanely.  "  When  I  got  to  the  shack 
he  was  inside,  standing  over  Doubler,  Strang- 


DOUBLER    TALKS  335 

ling  him.  The  damned  skunk!  You  was 
right,"  he  added;  "it  was  him  who  shot 
Doubler ! "  He  continued  rapidly,  grimly, 
taking  a  piece  of  paper  from  a  pocket  and 
writing  something  on  it. 

"My  men  have  got  Dakota  corraled  in 
his  cabin.  If  he  tries  to  get  away  they  will 
do  for  him.  I  don't  want  that  to  happen; 
there's  too  few  square  men  in  the  country 
as  it  is.  Take  this  " — he  held  out  the  paper 
to  her — "and  get  down  to  Dakota's  cabin 
with  it.  Give  it  to  Bud — one  of  my  men — 
and  tell  him  to  scatter  the  others  and  try  to 
head  off  Duncan  if  he  comes  that  way.  I'm 
after  him!" 

The  paper  fluttered  toward  her,  she 
snatched  at  it,  missed  it,  and  stooped  to  take 
it  from  the  ground.  When  she  stood  erect 
she  saw  Allen  and  his  pony  silhouetted  for 
an  instant  on  the  crest  of  the  ridge  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.    Then  he  vanished. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FOR  DAKOTA 

THOUGH  in  a  state  of  anxiety  and  ex- 
citement over  the  incident  of  Dun- 
can's attack  on  Doubler  and  the  sub- 
sequent shooting,  together  with  a  realization 
of  Dakota's  danger,  Sheila  did  not  lose  her 
composure.  She  ran  to  the  river  and  se- 
cured the  water,  aware  that  it  might  be 
needed  now  more  than  ever.  Then,  hurry- 
ing as  best  she  could  with  the  weight  of  the 
pail,  she  returned  to  the  cabin. 

She  was  relieved  to  find  that  Doubler  had 
received  no  injury,  and  she  paused  long 
enough  to  allow  him  to  tell  her  that  Duncan 
had  entered  the  cabin  shortly  after  she  had 
left  it.  He  had  attacked  Doubler,  but  had 
been  interrupted  by  Allen,  who  had  sud- 
denly ridden  up.  Duncan  had  heard  him 
coming,  and  had  concealed  himself  behind 

336 


FOR   DAKOTA  337 

the  door,  and  when  Allen  had  entered  Dun- 
can had  struck  him  on  the  head  with  the  butt 
of  his  six-shooter,  knocking  him  down.  The 
blow  had  been  a  glancing  one,  however, 
and  Allen  had  recovered  quickly,  seizing 
Doubler's  rifle  and  trying  to  bring  down  the 
would  be  murderer  as  he  fled. 

While  attending  to  Doubler's  bandages, 
Sheila  repeated  the  conversation  she  had 
had  with  Allen  concerning  the  situation  in 
which  he  had  left  Dakota,  and  instantly  the 
nester's  anxiety  for  his  friend  took  prece- 
dence over  any  thoughts  for  his  own  immedi- 
ate welfare. 

"There'll  be  trouble  sure,  now  that  Al- 
len's left  there,"  he  said.  "Dakota  won't 
be  a  heap  easy  with  them  deputies." 

He  told  Sheila  to  let  the  bandaging  go 
until  later,  but  she  refused. 

"Dakota'll  be  needin'  you  a  heap  more 
than  I  need  you,"  he  insisted,  refusing  to  al- 
low her  to  touch  the  bandages.  "  There'll 
be  the  devil  to  pay  if  any  of  them  deputies 
try  to  rush  Dakota's  shack.  I  want  you  to 
go  down  there  right  now.  If  you  wait,  it'll 
mebbe  be  too  late." 


338     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Sheila  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
yielding  to  the  entreaty  in  Doubler's  eyes, 
she  was  at  his  side,  pressing  his  hand. 

"  Ride  ma'am !  "  he  told  her,  when  she  was 
ready  to  go,  his  cheeks  flushed  with  excite- 
ment, his  eyes  bright. 

Her  pony  snorted  with  surprise  when  she 
brought  her  riding  whip  down  against  its 
flanks  when  turning  from  the  corral  gates, 
but  it  needed  no  second  urging,  and  its  pace 
when  it  splashed  through  the  shallow  water 
of  the  crossing  was  fully  as  great  as  that  of 
Duncan's  pony,  which  had  previously  passed 
through  it. 

Once  on  the  hard  sand  of  the  river  trail 
it  settled  into  a  long,  swinging  gallop,  un- 
der which  the  miles  flew  by  rapidly  and 
steadily.  Sheila  drew  the  animal  up  on  the 
rises,  breathing  it  sometimes,  but  on  the  lev- 
els she  urged  it  with  whip  and  spur,  and  in 
something  more  than  an  hour  after  leaving 
Doubler's  cabin,  she  flashed  by  the  quick- 
sand crossing,  which  she  estimated  as  being 
not  more  than  twelve  miles  from  her  jour- 
ney's end. 

She  was  tired  after  her  long  vigil  at  Doub- 


FOE    DAKOTA  339 

ler's  side,  but  the  weariness  was  entirely 
physical,  for  her  brain  was  working  rapidly, 
filling  her  thoughts  with  picturesque  con- 
jectures, drawing  pictures  in  which  she  saw 
Dakota  being  shot  down  by  Allen's  deputies. 
And  he  was  innocent! 

She  did  not  blame  herself  for  Dakota's 
dilemma,  though  she  felt  a  keen  regret  over 
her  treatment  of  him,  over  her  unjust  sus- 
picions. He  had  really  been  in  earnest 
when  he  had  told  her  the  night  before  on  the 
river  trail  that  he  was  not  guilty — that 
everybody  had  misjudged  him.  Vivid  in 
her  recollection  was  the  curious  expression 
on  his  face  when  he  had  said  to  her  just  be- 
fore leaving  her  that  night: 

"  Won't  you  believe  me?  " 

And  that  other  time,  when  he  had  taken 
her  by  the  shoulders  and  looked  steadily 
into  her  eyes — she  remembered  that,  too; 
she  could  almost  feel  his  fingers,  and  the 
words  he  had  uttered  then  were  fresh  in  her 
memory:  "I've  treated  you  mean,  Sheila,; 
about  as  mean  as  a  man  could  treat  a 
woman.  I  am  sorry.  I  want  you  to  believe 
that.     And   maybe   some   day — when   this 


340    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

business  is  over — you'll  understand,  and  for- 
give me." 

There  had  been  mystery  in  his  actions 
ever  since  she  had  seen  him  the  first  time, 
and  though  she  could  not  yet  understand  it, 
she  had  discovered  that  there  were  forces  at 
work  in  his  affairs  which  seemed  to  indicate 
that  he  had  not  told  her  that  for  the  pur- 
pose of  attempting  to  justify  his  previous 
actions. 

Evidently,  whatever  the  mystery  that  sur- 
rounded him,  her  father  and  Duncan  were 
concerned  in  it,  and  this  thought  spurred  her 
on,  for  it  gave  her  a  keen  delight  to  think 
that  she  was  arrayed  against  them,  even 
though  she  were  on  the  side  of  the  man  who 
had  wronged  her.  He,  at  least,  had  not 
been  concerned  in  the  plot  to  murder  Doub- 
ler. 

When  she  reached  the  last  rise — on  the 
crest  of  which  she  had  sat  on  her  pony  on 
the  morning  following  her  marriage  to  Da- 
kota in  the  cabin  and  from  which  she  had 
seen  the  parson  riding  away — she  was 
trembling  with  eagerness  and  dread  for  fear 
that  something  might  happen  before  she 


FOR   DAKOTA  341 

could  arrive.  It  was  three  miles  down  the 
slope,  and  when  she  reached  the  level  there 
was  Dakota's  cabin  before  her. 

She  drew  her  pony  to  a  walk,  for  she  saw 
men  grouped  in  front  of  the  cabin  door, 
saw  Dakota  there  himself,  standing  in  the 
open  doorway,  framed  in  the  light  from 
within.  There  were  no  evidences  of  the  con- 
flict which  she  had  dreaded.  She  had  ar- 
rived in  time. 

Convinced  of  this,  she  felt  for  the  first 
time  her  physical  weariness,  and  she  leaned 
forward  on  her  pony,  holding  to  its  mane 
for  support,  approaching  the  cabin  slowly. 

Her  father  was  there,  she  observed,  as 
she  drew  nearer;  and  three  strangers — and 
Allen!  And  near  Allen,  sitting  on  his 
horse  dejectedly,  was  Duncan! 

One  of  Duncan's  arms  swung  oddly  at 
his  side,  and  Sheila  thought  instantly  of  his 
curse  when  he  had  been  riding  near  her  at 
the  river  crossing.  Evidently  Allen's  bul- 
let had  struck  him. 

Sheila's  presence  at  Dakota's  cabin  was 
now  unnecessary,  for  it  was  evident  that  an 
understanding  had  been  reached  with  Allen, 


342     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

and  Sheila  experienced  a  sudden  aversion 
to  appearing  among  the  men.  Turning  her 
pony,  she  was  about  to  ride  away,  intending 
to  return  to  Doubler's  cabin,  when  Allen 
turned  and  saw  her.  He  spurred  quickly 
to  her  side,  seizing  the  pony  by  the  bridle 
rein  and  leading  it  toward  the  cabin  door* 

"  It's  all  right,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  I  got 
him.  Holy  smoke!"  he  exclaimed  as  she 
came  within  the  radius  of  the  light.  "  You 
certainly  rode  some,  didn't  you,  ma'am?" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  saw  her  father 
look  at  her,  noted  his  start,  smiled  scorn- 
fully when  she  observed  a  paleness  over- 
spreading his  face.  She  looked  from  him 
to  Duncan,  and  the  latter  flushed  and  turned 
his  head.  Then  Allen's  voice  reached  her, 
as  he  spoke  to  Dakota. 

"  This  young  woman  has  rode  twenty 
miles  to-night — to  save  your  hide — you 
durned  cuss.  If  you  was  anyways  hospit- 
able, you'd " 

Allen's  voice  seemed  to  grow  distant  to 
Sheila,  the  figures  of  the  men  in  the  group 
blurred,  the  light  danced,  she  reeled  in  the 
saddle,  tried  to  check  herself,  failed,  and 


FOR   DAKOTA  343 

toppled  limply  forward  over  her  pony's 
neck.  She  heard  an  exclamation,  saw  Da- 
kota spring  suddenly  from  the  doorway,  felt 
his  arms  around  her.  She  struggled  in  his 
grasp,  trying  to  fight  him  off,  and  then  she 
drifted  into  oblivion. 


CHAPTEK  XIX 

SOME  MEMORIES 

WHEN"  Sheila  recovered  conscious- 
ness she  was  in  Dakota's  cabin — 
in  the  bunk  in  which  she  had  lain 
on  another  night  in  the  yesterday  of  her  life 
in  this  country.  She  recognized  it  instantly. 
There  was  the  candle  on  the  table,  there  were 
the  familiar  chairs,  the  fireplace,  the  shelves 
upon  which  were  Dakota's  tobacco  tins  and 
matches;  there  was  the  guitar,  with  its 
gaudy  string,  suspended  from  the  wall.  If 
it  had  been  raining,  she  might  have  imagined 
that  she  was  just  awakening  from  a  sleep 
in  that  other  time.  She  felt  a  hand  on  her 
forehead,  a  damp  cloth,  and  she  opened  her 
eyes  to  gaze  fairly  into  Dakota's. 

"  Don't,  please,"  she  said,  shrinking  from 
him. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  she  had  uttered 

344 


SOME   MEMORIES  345 

the  same  words  to  him  before,  and,  closing 
her  eyes  for  a  moment,  she  remembered.  It 
had  been  when  he  had  tried  to  assist  her  out 
of  the  water  at  the  quicksand  crossing,  and 
as  on  that  occasion,  his  answer  was  the  same. 

"  Then  I  won't." 

She  lay  for  a  long  time,  looking  straight 
up  at  the  ceiling,  utterly  tired,  wondering 
vaguely  what  had  become  of  her  father, 
Duncan,  Allen,  and  the  others.  She  would 
have  given  much  to  have  been  able  to  lie 
there  for  a  time — a  long  time — and  rest.  But 
that  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  She  struggled 
to  a  sitting  position,  and  when  her  eyes  had 
become  accustomed  to  the  light  she  saw  her 
father  sitting  in  a  chair  near  the  fireplace. 
The  door  was  closed — barred.  Sheila 
glanced  again  at  her  father,  and  then  ques- 
tioningly  at  Dakota,  who  was  watching  her 
from  the  center  of  the  room,  his  face  in- 
scrutable. 

"What  does  this  mean?  Where  are  the 
others?"  she  demanded. 

"  Allen  and  his  men  have  gone  back  to 
Lazette,"  returned  Dakota  quietly.  "  This 
means  " — he  pointed  to  Langford — "  that 


346     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

we're  going  to  have  a  little  talk — about 
things." 

Sheila  rose.  "  I  don't  care  to  hear  any 
talk ;  I  am  not  interested." 

"  You'll  be  interested  in  my  talk,"  said 
Dakota. 

Curiously,  he  seemed  to  be  invested  with 
a  new  character.  Just  now  he  was  more 
like  the  man  he  had  been  the  night  she  had 
met  him  the  first  time — before  he  had  forced 
her  to  marry  him — than  he  had  been  since. 
Only,  she  felt  as  she  watched  him  standing 
quietly  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  the  reck- 
lessness which  had  marked  his  manner  that 
other  time  seemed  to  have  entirely  disap- 
peared, seemed  to  have  been  replaced  bjr 
something  else — determination. 

Beneath  the  drooping  mustache  Sheila 
saw  the  lines  of  his  lips;  they  had  always 
seemed  hard  to  her,  and  now  there  were  lit- 
tle curves  at  the  corners  which  hinted  at 
amusement — grim  amusement.  His  eyes, 
too,  were  different;  the  mockery  had  de- 
parted from  them.  They  were  steady  and 
unwavering,  as  before,  and  though  they  still 
baffled  her,  she  was  certain  that  she  saw  a 


SOME  MEMORIES  347 

slumbering  devil  in  them — as  though  he  pos- 
sessed some  mysterious  knowledge  and  pur- 
posed to  confound  Sheila  and  her  father 
with  it,  though  in  his  own  way  and  to  suit 
his  convenience.  Yet  behind  it  all  there 
lurked  a  certain  gravity — a  cold  delibera- 
tion that  seemed  to  proclaim  that  he  was  in 
no  mood  to  trifle  and  that  he  proposed  to 
follow  some  plan  and  would  brook  no  inter- 
ference. 

Fascinated  by  the  change  in  him  Sheila  re- 
sumed her  seat  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk, 
watching  him  closely.  He  drew  a  chair  over 
near  the  door,  tilted  it  back  and  dropped 
into  it,  thus  mutely  announcing  that  he  in- 
tended keeping  the  prisoners  until  he  had 
delivered  himself  of  that  mysterious  knowl- 
edge which  seemed  to  be  in  his  mind. 

Glancing  furtively  at  her  father,  Sheila 
observed  that  he  appeared  to  have  formed 
some  sort  of  a  conclusion  regarding  Dako- 
ta's actions  also,  for  he  sat  very  erect  on  his 
chair,  staring  at  the  latter,  an  intense  inter- 
est in  his  eyes. 

Sheila  had  become  interested,  too;  she  had 
forgotten  her  weariness.    And  yet  Dakota's 


348     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

first  words  disappointed  her — somehow  they 
seemed  irrevelant. 

"  This  isn't  such  a  big  world,  after  all, 
is  it?  "  He  addressed  both  Sheila  and  her 
father,  though  he  looked  at  neither.  His 
tone  was  quietly  conversational,  and  when 
he  received  no  answer  to  his  remark  he  looked 
up  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  That  has  been  said  by  a  great  many 
people,  hasn't  it?  I've  heard  it  many  times. 
I  reckon  you  have,  too.  But  it's  a  fact, 
just  the  same.  The  world  is  a  small  place. 
Take  us  three.  You  " — he  said,  pointing 
to  Langf ord — "  come  out  here  from  Albany 
and  buy  a  ranch.  You " — he  smiled  at 
Sheila — "  came  with  your  father  as  a  matter 
of  course.  You " — he  looked  again  at 
Langf  ord — "  might  have,  bought  a  ranch  in 
another  part  of  the  country.  You  didn't 
need  to  buy  this  particular  one.  But  you 
did.  Take  me.  I  spent  five  years  in  Da- 
kota before  I  came  here.  I've  been  here  five 
years. 

"  A  man  up  in  Dakota  wanted  me  to  stay 
there ;  said  he'd  do  most  anything  for  me  if  I 
would.     But  I  didn't  like  Dakota;  some- 


SOME  MEMORIES  349 

thing  kept  telling  me  that  I  ought  to  move 
around  a  little.  I  came  here,  I  liked  the 
place,  and  I've  stayed  here.  I  know  that 
neither  of  you  are  very  much  interested  in 
what  has  happened  to  me,  but  I've  told  you 
that  much  just  to  prove  my  contention  about 
the  world  being  a  small  place.  It  surely 
isn't  so  very  big  when  you  consider  that  three 
persons  can  meet  up  like  we've  met — our 
trails  leading  us  to  the  same  section  of  the 
country." 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  concerns  us,"  said 
Langf ord  impatiently. 

"  No,"  returned  Dakota,  and  now  there 
was  a  note  of  sarcasm  in  his  voice,  "you 
don't  see.  Lots  of  folks  don't  see.  But 
there  are  trails  that  lead  everywhere.  Fate 
marks  them  out — blazes  them.  There  are 
trails  that  lead  us  into  trouble,  others  that 
lead  us  to  pleasure — straight  trails,  crooked 
ones,  trails  that  cross — all  kinds.  Folks 
start  out  on  a  crooked  trail,  trying  to  get 
away  from  something,  but  pretty  soon  an- 
other trail  crosses  the  one  they  are  on — 
maybe  it  will  be  a  straight  one  that  crosses 
theirs,  with  a  straight  man  riding  it. 


850    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  The  man  riding  the  crooked  trail  and 
the  man  riding  the  straight  one  meet  at  the 
place  where  the  trails  cross.  Such  trails 
don't  lead  to  any  to-morrow;  they  are  yes- 
terday's trails,  and  before  the  man  riding 
the  crooked  trail  and  the  man  riding  the 
straight  trail  can  go  any  further  there  has 
got  to  be  an  accounting.  That  is  what  has 
happened  here.  You  " — he  smiled  gravely 
as  he  looked  at  Langford — "  have  been  rid- 
ing a  crooked  trail.  I  have  been  hanging  onto 
the  straight  one  as  best  I  could.  Now  we've 
got  to  where  the  trails  cross." 

"Meaning  that  you  want  an  explanation 
of  my  action  in  burning  that  signed  agree- 
ment, I  suppose? "  sneered  Langford,  look- 
ing up. 

"  Still  trying  to  ride  the  crooked  trail?" 
smiled  Dakota,  with  the  first  note  of  mock^ 
ery  that  Sheila  had  heard  in  his  voice  since 
he  had  begun  speaking.  "  I'm  not  worry- 
ing a  bit  about  that  agreement.  Why,  man, 
I'd  have  shot  myself  before  I'd  have  shot 
Doubler.  He's  my  friend — the  only  real 
friend  I've  had  in  ten  years." 

"  Then  when  you  signed  the  agreement 


SOME  MEMORIES  351 

you  didn't  mean  to  keep  it?"  questioned 
Langford  incautiously,  disarmed  by  Dako- 
ta's earnestness, 

"  Ten  years  ago  a  boy  named  Ned  Keegles 
went  to  Dakota.  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you 
are  familiar  with  the  name/'  he  added  with 
a  smile  as  Langford  started  and  stiffened 
in  his  chair,  his  face  suddenly  ashen.  "  You 
knowing  Keegles  will  save  me  explaining  a 
lot,"  continued  Dakota.  "Well,  Keegles 
went  to  Dakota — where  I  was.  He  was 
eighteen  and  wasn't  very  strong,  as  young 
men  go.  But  he  got  a  job  punching  cows 
and  I  got  to  know  him  pretty  well — used  to 
bunk  with  him.  He  took  a  liking  to  me  be- 
cause I  took  an  interest  in  him. 

"  He  didn't  like  the  work,  because  he  had 
been  raised  differently.  He  lived  in  Albany 
before  he  went  West.  His  father,  William 
Keegles,  was  in  the  hardware  business  with 
a  man  named  Langford — David  Dowd 
Langford.  You  see,  I  couldn't  be  mistaken 
in  the  name  of  the  man;  it's  such  an  uncom- 
mon one." 

He  smiled  significantly  at  Sheila,  and  an 
odd  expression  came  into  her  face,  for  she 


352     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

remembered  that  on  the  night  of  her  com- 
ing he  had  made  the  same  remark. 

"  One  day  Ned  Keegles  got  sick  and  took 
me  into  his  confidence.  He  wasn't  in  the 
West  for  his  health,  he  said.  He  was  a 
fugitive  from  the  law,  accused  of  murdering 
his  father.  It  wasn't  a  nice  story  to  hear, 
but  he  told  it,  thinking  he  was  going  to  die." 

Dakota  smiled  enigmatically  at  Sheila 
and  coldly  at  the  now  shrinking  man  seated 
in  the  chair  beside  the  fireplace. 

"  One  day  Keegles  went  into  his  father's 
office.  His  father's  partner,  David  Dowd 
Langford,  was  there,  talking  to  his  father. 
They'd  had  hard  words.  Keegle's  father 
had  discovered  that  Langford  had  appro- 
priated a  large  sum  of  the  firm's  money. 
By  forging  his  partner's  signature  he  had 
escaped  detection  until  one  day  when  the 
elder  Keegles  had  accidentally  discovered 
the  fraud — which  was  the  day  on  which  Ned 
Keegles  visited  his  father.  It  isn't  neces- 
sary to  go  into  detail,  but  it  was  perfectly 
plain  that  Langford  was  guilty. 

"  There  were  hard  words,  as  I  have  said. 
The  elder  Keegles  threatened  to  prosecute. 


SOME  MEMORIES  353 

Langford  seized  a  sample  knife  that  had 
been  lying  on  the  elder  Keegle's  desk,  and 
stabbed  him,  killing  him  instantly.  Then, 
while  Ned  Keegles  stood  by,  stunned  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  attack,  Langford  coolly 
walked  to  a  telephone  and  notified  the  police 
of  the  murder.  Hanging  up  the  receiver,  he 
raised  the  hue  and  cry,  and  a  dozen  clerks 
burst  into  the  office,  to  find  Ned  Keegles 
bending  over  his  father,  trying  to  withdraw 
the  knife. 

"Langford  accused  Ned  Keegles  of  the 
murder.  He  protested,  of  course,  but  see- 
ing that  the  evidence  was  against  him,  he 
fought  his  way  out  of  the  office  and  escaped. 
He  went  to  Dakota — where  I  met  him." 
He  hesitated  and  looked  steadily  at  Lang- 
ford. "  Do  you  see  how  the  trails  have 
crossed?  The  crooked  one  and  the  straight 
one?" 

Langford  was  leaning  forward  in  his 
chair,  a  scared,  wild  expression  in  his  eyes, 
his  teeth  and  hands  clenched  in  an  effort  to 
control  his  emotions, 

"  It's  a  lie!  "  he  shouted.  "  I  didn't  kill 
him!    Ned  Keegles " 


354     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  Wait! "  Dakota  rose  from  his  chair  and 
walked  to  a  shelf,  from  which  he  took  a  box, 
returning  to  Langford's  side  and  opening  it. 
He  drew  out  a  knife,  shoving  it  before 
Langford's  eyes  and  pointing  out  some  rust 
spots  on  the  blade, 

"  This  knife  was  given  to  me  by  Ned 
Keegles,"  he  said  slowly.  "  These  rust  spots 
on  the  blade  are  from  his  father's  blood. 
Look  at  them! "  he  said  sharply,  for  Lang- 
ford  had  turned  his  head. 

At  the  command  he  swung  around,  his 
gaze  resting  on  the  knife.  "  That's  a  pretty 
story,"  he  sneered. 

Dakota's  laugh  when  he  returned  the 
knife  to  the  box  chilled  Sheila  as  that  same 
laugh  had  chilled  her  when  she  had  heard  it 
during  her  first  night  in  the  country — in  this 
same  cabin,  with  Dakota  sitting  at  the  table 
— a  bitter,  mocking  laugh  that  had  in  it  a 
savagery  controlled  by  an  iron  will.  He 
turned  abruptly  and  walked  to  his  chair, 
seating  himself. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it's  a  pretty  story.  But 
it  hasn't  all  been  told.  With  a  besmirched 
name  and  the  thoughts  which  were  with  him 


SOME  MEMORIES  355 

all  the  time,  life  wasn't  exactly  a  joyful  one 
for  Ned  Keegles.  He  was  young,  you  see, 
and  it  all  preyed  on  his  mind.  But  after  a 
while  it  hardened  him.  He'd  hit  town  with 
the  rest  of  the  boys,  and  he'd  drink  whiskey 
until  he'd  forget.  But  he  couldn't  forget 
long.  He  kept  seeing  his  father  and  Lang- 
ford;  nights  he'd  start  from  his  blankets, 
living  over  and  over  again  the  incident  of 
the  murder.  He  got  so  he  couldn't  stay  in 
Dakota.  He  came  down  here  and  tried  to 
forget.  It  was  just  the  same — there  was  no 
forgetfulness. 

"  One  night  when  he  was  on  the  trail  near 
here,  he  met  a  woman.  It  was  raining  and 
the  woman  had  lost  the  trail.  He  took  the 
woman  in.  She  interested  him,  and  he  ques- 
tioned her.  He  discovered  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  the  man  who  had  murdered  his 
father — the  daughter  of  David  Dowd  Lang- 
ford!" 

Langford  cringed  and  looked  at  Sheila, 
who  was  looking  straight  at  Dakota,  her 
eyes  alight  with  knowledge. 

"  Ned  Keegles  kept  his  silence,  as  he  had 
kept  it  for  ten  years,"  resumed  Dakota. 


356    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"  But  the  coming  of  the  woman  brought 
back  the  bitter  memories,  and  while  the 
woman  slept  in  his  cabin  he  turned  to  the 
whiskey  bottle  for  comfort.  As  he  drank 
his  troubles  danced  before  him — magnified. 
He  thought  it  would  be  a  fine  revenge  if  he 
should  force  the  woman  to  marry  him,  for 
he  figured  that  it  would  be  a  blow  at  the 
father's  pride.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  a  cow- 
ardly parson  and  the  whiskey  the  marriage 
would  never  have  occurred — Ned  Keegles 
would  not  have  thought  of  it.  But  he  didn't 
hurt  the  woman;  she  left  him  pure  as  she 
came — mentally  and  physically." 

Langford  slowly  rose  from  his  chair,  his 
lips  twitching,  his  face  working  strangely, 
his  eyes  wide  and  glaring. 

"  You  say  she  married  him — Ned  Kee- 
gles?" he  said,  his  voice  Jiigh  keyed  and 
shrill.  He  turned  to  Sheila  after  catching 
Dakota's  nod.  "Is  this  true?"  he  de- 
manded sharply.  "Did  you  marry  him  as 
this  man  says  you  did?" 

"  Yes ;  I  married  him,"  returned  Sheila 
dully,  and  Langford  sank  limply  into  his 
chair. 


SOME   MEMORIES  357 

Dakota  smiled  with  flashing  eyes  and 
continued: 

"  Keegles  married  the  woman/'  he  said 
coldly,  "  because  he  thought  she  was  Lang- 
ford's  real  daughter."  He  looked  at  Sheila 
with  a  glance  of  compassion.  "  Later,  when 
Keegles  discovered  that  the  woman  was  only 
Langford's  stepdaughter,  he  was  mighty 
sorry.  Not  for  Langford,  however,  because 
he  could  not  consider  Langford's  feelings. 
And  in  spite  of  what  he  had  done  he  was 
still  determined  to  secure  revenge. 

"  One  day  Langford  came  to  Keegles  with 
a  proposal.  He  had  seen  Keegles  kill  one 
man,  and  he  wanted  to  hire  him  to  kill  an- 
other— a  man  named  Doubler.  Keegles 
agreed,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  Lang- 
ford into " 

Dakota  hesitated,  for  Langford  had  risen 
to  his  feet  and  stood  looking  at  him,  his  eyes 
bulging,  his  face  livid. 

"You!"  he  said,  in  a  choking,  wailing 
voice ;  "  you — you,  are  Ned  Keegles !    You 

— you Why "    he    hesitated    and 

passed  a  hand  uncertainly  over  his  forehead, 
looking  from  Sheila  to  Dakota  with  glazed 


358     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

eyes.  "  You — you  are  a  liar !  "  he  suddenly 
screamed,  his  voice  raised  to  a  maniacal 
pitch.  "  It  isn't  so !  You — both  of  you — 
have  conspired  against  me ! " 

"  Wait! "  Dakota  got  to  his  feet,  walked 
to  a  shelf,  and  took  down  a  small  glass,  a 
pair  of  shears,  a  shaving  cup,  and  a  razor. 
While  Langford  watched,  staring  at  him 
with  fearful,  wondering  eyes,  Dakota  deftly 
snipped  off  the  mustache  with  the  shears, 
lathered  his  lip,  and  shaved  it  clean.  Then 
he  turned  and  confronted  Langford. 

The  latter  looked  at  him  with  one,  long, 
intense  gaze,  and  then  with  a  dry  sob  which 
caught  in  his  throat  and  seemed  to  choke 
him,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands, 
shuddered  convulsively,  and  without  a 
sound  pitched  forward,  face  down,  at 
Dakota's    feet. 


CHAPTER  XX 

INTO  THE  UNKNOWN 

AFTER  a  time  Sheila  rose  from  the 
/-\  bunk  on  which  she  had  been  sitting 
and  stood  in  the  center  of  the  floor, 
looking  down  at  her  father.  Dakota  had 
not  moved.  He  stood  also,  watching  Lang- 
ford,  his  face  pale  and  grim,  and  he  did  not 
speak  until  Sheila  had  addressed  him  twice. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now? "  she 
said  dully.  "  It  is  for  you  to  say,  you  know. 
You  hold  his  life  in  your  hands." 

"Do?"  He  smiled  bitterly  at  her. 
"  What  would  you  do?  I  have  waited  ten 
years  for  this  day.  It  must  go  on  to  the 
end." 

"The  end?" 

"  Yes ;  the  end,"  he  said  gravely.    "  He 
— Dakota  pointed  to  the  prostrate  figure — 
u  must  sign  a  written  confession." 

359 


99 


360    THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

"And  then?" 

"  He  will  return  to  answer  for  his  crime." 

Sheila  shuddered  and  turned  from  him 
with  bowed  head. 

"Oh!"  she  said  at  last;  "it  will  be  too 
horrible!  My  friends  in  the  East — they 
will " 

"  Your  friends,"  he  said  with  some  bitter- 
ness. "  Could  your  friends  say  more  than 
my  friends  said  when  they  thought  that  I 
had  murdered  my  own  father  in  cold  blood 
and  then  run  away?  " 

"  But  I  am  innocent,"  she  pleaded. 

"I  was  innocent,"  he  returned,  with  a 
grave  smile. 

"  Yes,  but  I  could  not  help  you,  you 
know,  for  I  wasn't  there  when  you  were 
accused.  But  you  are  here,  and  you  can 
help  me.  Don't  you  see,"  she  said,  coming 
close  to  him,  "  don't  you  see  that  the  dis- 
grace will  not  fall  on  him,  but  on  me.  I 
will  make  him  sign  the  confession,"  she  of- 
fered, "  you  can  hold  it  over  him.  He  will 
make  restitution  of  your  property.  But  do 
not  force  him  to  go  back  East.  Let  him 
go  somewhere — anywhere — but  let  him  live. 


INTO   THE    UNKNOWN     361 

For,  after  all,  he  is  my  father — the  only  one 
I  ever  knew." 

"  But  my  vengeance,"  he  said,  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  smile  softening  as  he  looked  down 
at  her. 

"  Your  vengeance?  "  She  came  closer  to 
him,  looking  up  into  his  face.  "  Are  we  to 
judge — to  condemn?  Will  not  the  power 
which  led  us  three  together — the  power 
which  you  are  pleased  to  call  '  Fate ' ;  the 
power  that  blazed  the  trail  which  you  have 
followed  from  the  yesterday  of  your  life; — 
will  not  this  power  judge  him — punish  him? 
Please,"  she  pleaded,  "  please,  for  my  sake, 
for — for  " — her  voice  broke  and  she  came 
forward  and  placed  her  hands  on  his  shoul- 
ders— "  for  your  wife's  sake." 

He  looked  down  at  her  for  an  instant,  the 
hard  lines  of  his  face  breaking  into  gentle, 
sympathetic  curves.  Then  his  arms  went 
around  her,  and  she  leaned  against  him,  her 
head  against  his  shoulder,  while  she  wept 
softly. 

•  •••• 

An  hour  later,  standing  side  by  side  in 
the  open  doorway  of  the  cabin,  Sheila  and 


362     THE  TRAIL  TO  YESTERDAY 

Dakota  watched  in  silence  while  Langford, 
having  signed  a  confession  dictated  by  Da- 
kota, mounted  his  pony  and  rode  slowly  up 
the  river  trail  toward  Lazette. 

He  slowly  passed  the  timber  clump  near 
the  cabin,  and  with  bowed  head  traveled  up 
the  long  slope  which  led  to  the  rise  upon 
which,  in  another  time,  Sheila  had  caught 
her  last  glimpse  of  the  parson.  It  was  in 
the  cold,  bleak  moment  of  the  morning  when 
darkness  has  not  yet  gone  and  the  dawn  not 
come,  and  Langford  looked  strangely  deso- 
late out  there  on  the  trail  alone — alone  with 
thoughts  more  desolate  than  his  surround- 
ings. 

Sheila  shivered  and  snuggled  closer  to 
Dakota.  He  looked  down  at  her  with  a 
sympathetic  smile. 

"  It  is  so  lonesome,"  she  said. 

"Where?  "he  asked. 

"  Out  there — where  he  is  going." 

Dakota  did  not  answer.  For  a  long  time 
they  watched  the  huddled  form  of  the  rider. 
They  saw  him  approach  the  crest  of  the  rise 
— reach  it.  Then  from  the  mountains  in  the 
eastern  distance  came  a  shaft  of  light,  strik- 


INTO   THE   UNKNOWN     363 

ing  the  summit  of  the  rise  where  the  rider 
bestrode  his  pony — throwing  both  into  bold 
relief.  For  a  moment  the  rider  halted  the 
pony,  turned,  glanced  back  an  instant,  and 
was  gone. 


THE  END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

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